Crossing Galaxies
by SquishyCool
Summary: Beth Greene is not of this world - literally. Daryl Dixon meets her during a time that he's convinced he doesn't belong anywhere. When their paths collide and entangle, and love blossoms between them, he uncovers a centuries-old secret that could mean giving up everything he's ever known, and risking even more. But he'd go to the ends of the Earth for this girl. Maybe even farther.
1. Prologue

_**prologue**_

"Humans are just… so _strange_."

Beth's voice was slow and thoughtful, and it felt like syrup in Daryl's ears. "I mean, once you get past all the weird little mannerisms, the thing that really gets me is how… they're basically _designed_ ta feel. Every human has so many different emotions and thoughts at all times, and their brains are wired to accept every _good_ thing possible – yet they experience so much _pain_ in life. Some suffer so much, and survive, and then they're walking around with these extreme chemical imbalances and-and weird impulses, and memories that cause them physical pain, and damaged brains. It's so tragic and… incredible. At the same time."

He couldn't hold back a light chuckle as he raised the glass to his mouth to take another drink. "Ya talk about it like ya ain't human."

Daryl's mind was swimming from the booze they'd been sharing on the porch for the last couple of hours. He was in control and coherent as always, but he felt like he couldn't take his eyes off of Beth. She had a glow about her under the beaming stars, and her blue eyes were sparkling brighter than he could ever remember, and he couldn't recall a time when he'd been so hung up on another person's every word. Something about the way she spoke entranced him. And he couldn't stop watching the way her soft, pink lips curled smoothly at every word and smile.

She laughed quietly and took a sip from her glass. "It's just… observations. Stuff you end up thinkin' about."

"When?" He prodded, taking in her golden hair and shy smile once more while her eyes were looking away.

"I dunno," she mumbled before taking a longer drink.

Daryl smirked. "Yer gettin' a little drunk."

She shook her head and smiled like she had her own inside joke. "This stuff doesn't even affect me like you. I jus' like the taste."

He furrowed his brow and remained silent for a moment in confusion, then his voice got deeper as he became more serious. "Whadd'you mean?"

Her smile disappeared as she pursed her lips and Daryl silently urged her to look at him and explain her odd comment, but she continued staring at her glass. "What if I told you somethin'… that sounded really, really ridiculous. But I promised you it was true, even if you thought I was _crazy_ …?"

Daryl quirked a brow, intrigued. "Like those damaged brains you were just talkin' 'bout?"

Beth's lips tugged at a smirk but failed and her voice came out soft and hesitant. "Yeah."

"I guess I'd ask fer some proof, but… what reason do I got _not_ ta believe ya?"

"What if I told you," she started, her eyes finally flitting up to meet his for a heartbeat, "that I'm not _from_ here?"

The alcohol put Daryl's mind in a goofier state, and his reflexive reaction was to jokingly answer, "What, like yer from Canada or somethin'? Are you _illegal_?"

He expected at least a smile from her, but her face remained stoic, her tone flat. "No… a lot farther away."

His smile disappeared and he tried to read her, tried to guess what she was attempting to tell him. But she was impossible to figure out. She always had been. "Okay. Where?"

He tried to convey to her that he didn't _care_ what her secret was and that he just wanted her to tell him. He'd told her so many things in their time together that he figured he probably owed her at least a couple hours of venting time. But he was also genuinely curious at what she could've been keeping from him. She had seemed like such an open book, and if there was anything he admired about her, it was her honesty. Raw and real, consistent and without fail.

"What if I told you," she started again, speaking a bit louder and making a point to enunciate her words clearly, "that I crossed… _galaxies_ … to get here…?"

Her bright blue eyes had looked up again to meet his, glinting in the moonlight, and he stared intently into them. He studied her, wracking his brain. Was he dreaming right now? Was this the alcohol? She returned his stare with a completely straight face, and then he saw a flicker of fear and doubt cross her features.

He knew she'd never lie to him. Somehow, he just _knew_.

He responded with the only words he could think to put together. "How many galaxies?"

* * *

 **A/N:** This was originally posted as a photo+blurb on Tumblr about a year ago, and then a lot of people showed interest in it, and THEN I got a weird and sudden burst of inspiration and made like, an outline of the plot and I thought up a whole backstory and did some research to support it, and I even thought of an ending. And then I got even more inspiration and began writing the first chapter.  
However, there won't be any smut (sorry), and it won't be super long, probably 10-15 chapters, maybe 100k words at completion. Also, it will be Beth and Daryl in an already established relationship - like, dating without the label, already fallen in love with each other but not quite "moved in together" kinda thing. We will see a lot of scenes from their developing relationship, as the timeline will jump back and forth for like half the story.

I hope y'all enjoy it. I won't be posting on any particular schedule, and _Most Wanted_ will still take precedence, but this plot bunny was TOO fun for me to ignore. Chapter 1 will be posted soon. Let me know what you think!

As always, this story has a Pinterest board (currently in inspo mode), and is cross-posted to AO3 with photos.


	2. a little strange

_**chapter one - a little strange**_

Before he learned her secret, there was a night when he walked in and found her crying. For no _real_ reason. At least not a reason that he could fully understand at the time.

He'd walked up the three flights of stairs and entered her small studio apartment – using the spare key she'd given him, like usual – carrying a bag full of Chinese takeout. And she was sitting on the couch, knees pulled to her chest and face buried in her hands, sobbing. Just sobbing. The tears drenched her hands, the edges of her sleeves, they dripped down onto her pants. The sobs wracked her body, leaving her breathless and moaning. As if in pain. But there was no visible wound.

Daryl had stood there, just inside the doorway, for a long moment. Frozen. Petrified. He didn't know what to do, how to react. He didn't know if he should approach and try to comfort her, or if he should ask what was wrong. Or if he should just turn around and leave, pretend he'd never been there. He thought she might need to be alone.

But then she raised her head, pulled her face from her hands, revealed the streaks of tears, puffy eyes, red cheeks. Teardrops hung off the ends of her eyelashes as she blinked and looked up at him. The sobs stuttered to a halt. He saw her bottom lip tremble as she held back more tears.

"What's wrong?" He asked. He didn't know where the words had come from. They'd just tumbled out of his mouth. Her big, blue eyes had been staring at him, boring straight through his bones. He had to say _something_.

He saw her take in a deep, shuddery breath. He expected her to smile at the sight of him, like she normally did. Or to put on a brave face and say something reassuring, reminding him that she could always see _some_ light amidst whatever darkness had come.

But this time was different. She wasn't trying to hide anything from him, wasn't trying to be strong. And she wasn't in the mood to try and look for the bright side. He could see that in the way she stared back at him. In the way her mouth remained in a frown, struggling to find the right words to explain her sorrow.

Then she answered, her voice soft and grief-stricken, "There's just so much… _pain_ , Daryl. Everyone is suffering, and dying, and – and I can't do _anything_ ta stop it."

The emptiness that had opened up inside his chest was a feeling he could never forget. He'd never seen Beth so hopeless. He didn't know the words to say to help her. Wasn't even entirely sure there _was_ anything he could say that would be helpful. He'd remained frozen for a long moment, watching as she buried her face in her hands again and continued sobbing.

He'd never seen someone _feel_ so much before. So deeply. So selflessly. So purely.

It simultaneously scared the hell out of him and intrigued him to no end.

Unsure of what else to do, Daryl had dropped the bag of takeout onto the table and sat down on the couch with her. And then, without really thinking about it, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. She buried her face in his chest, fisted the fabric of his shirt in her hands, and cried. Sobbed. And he just held her. Until the tears had soaked through to his skin and he could no longer decipher his own heartbeat from hers. Until the sun dipped behind the horizon and the evening sky faded into dark night, and they were sitting on the couch with nothing but the city lights leaking in through the open blinds of the windows.

They didn't have sex that night. Or "make love," as Beth liked to call it. But what they did felt far more intimate to Daryl.

It was similar to the first time he'd broken down in front of her, when he'd poured his heart out to her for the first time. When he'd opened up about his brother and his parents and his whole, fucked-up past. And she'd held him, let him cry without making him feel ashamed. She'd dried his tears, rubbed his back, and kissed away all the groans of despair that had echoed from his throat. They hadn't had sex that night, either. But they had kissed, and then fell asleep in each other's arms. Which was miles past anything he'd ever done with a woman before that point.

This time, he held her until she was all cried out, and then they ate cold Chinese takeout in silence before stripping down to their underwear and falling asleep in her bed. She cried a little more before drifting off, softly and quietly, head rested on his chest and tears dampening his skin. He held her tight, even after her heartbeat and breathing steadied and he knew she was asleep. He stroked her hair and her back, breathed in her scent, watched her pale skin glow in the dim moonlight from her bedroom window.

He thought about all the pain she felt. All the aching that haunted her – like the guilt that haunted him. Both for reasons that neither of them had any control over. It reminded him that no matter how different they were, something deep inside told him they were the _same_. Somehow, she understood him like no one else had ever been able to. Or willing to. And she _wanted_ to understand him, to know him. _All_ of him, even the ugly parts.

And he understood her. He saw the ugly parts of her, too, and eased her into accepting them. And in return, she showed him how to turn those ugly parts into the silver linings of a dark cloud. She showed him how to hope again, how to belong somewhere. When he'd never belonged anywhere, not even in his own family or his own home. She'd managed to convince him that he was worth something. That his place in the _world_ was worth something.

There was a profound, unbreakable thread that connected them in a way that he was incapable of putting into words. He couldn't even explain where it had come from. One day, it had just appeared. And he no longer _cared_ to explain it, or to have any sort of logical reasoning behind it.

All he knew was that he'd _die_ for this woman. He'd _kill_ for her.

And in the wise words of Gomez Addams: " _Either way… what bliss_."

* * *

Beth Greene was unlike any woman Daryl Dixon had ever met before in his life. Unlike any _person_ he'd ever met before.

He'd come to that conclusion merely hours after the first time they spoke. Although he couldn't quite explain what had drawn him to her in the first place. Even when he continuously went over the memories, replayed the first moment he'd seen her, and their first conversation, analyzed every detail of their first two interactions. He just couldn't figure it out. Couldn't even explain the odd feeling that had churned to life in his stomach when their eyes briefly met for the first time. And if she had been anyone else, he was sure he wouldn't have even responded to her at all, and he certainly would never have thought about her again.

But Beth was _different_. He knew it even before he _really_ knew it.

It wasn't like she was drop-dead, head-turning gorgeous (even though she was – _to him_ ), or like she sparkled and beamed and demanded the attention of every person in whatever room she entered (even though she did – _to him_ ). But there was something indescribable that radiated from her very presence. There was an odd electricity that rushed through Daryl's blood whenever she was nearby, and he could not decide whether it was his hunter instincts or something else entirely. After a while, he didn't care. All he knew was that he felt calmer when she was around. Something restless and insatiable inside him was stilled when they were together. Silenced. He felt a tranquility that he'd never really known.

The first time he saw Beth was the day of Merle's funeral.

Daryl's older – and only – brother had finally pushed his luck too far and overdosed on a lethal cocktail of illegal drugs. When the ER doctors told Daryl that Merle was dead, they didn't try to hide their astonishment at how the eldest Dixon brother had reached the age of 53. From the few things the doctors said that Daryl understood, he gathered that Merle had already been suffering from cirrhosis of the liver, as well as numerous undetected and cancerous tumors. The man hadn't seen a doctor in at least twenty years, so it was no shock. It was Merle's heart that had given out first – unable to keep up with the dangerous mixture of methamphetamines, cocaine, opioids, and alcohol. They'd been able to resuscitate him, but his brain had been without oxygen for so long that he would've been a vegetable. Daryl opted to pull the plug.

A week later, he was arranging a very small and cheap funeral, in which no one attended except him and Merle's past AA sponsor. Afterwards, Daryl had taken the urn full of his older brother's ashes and scattered them out in the woods, across Merle's favorite childhood camping spot. He'd never specified any sort of plans for his death, let alone talked about where he might want his ashes scattered. Not that he cared anyway – he was dead. But Daryl did what he felt was best. What felt right.

He'd had Merle's urn nestled safely inside the compartment of his motorcycle when he stopped at a Kroger grocery store on his way out of town. He hadn't picked the location for any specific reason except that it was within sight whenever the idea to buy some alcohol had popped into his head. It was nearly ten o'clock on a Tuesday night and there were no more than a dozen other vehicles in the parking lot. The medium-sized grocery store, placed in the center of a middle-class Atlanta suburb, was dimly lit and preparing to close within the next couple of hours. Daryl wandered inside and immediately found his way to the small beer and wine section, picking out a 20-pack of Coors.

He wandered through the aisles toward the checkout area, pausing in the frozen foods section and eyeballing the Hot Pockets. That was when he'd felt her for the first time. He'd sensed her presence nearby. He was naturally observant, constantly on the lookout and paying attention to his surroundings, especially the people who occupied the space around him. He'd heard her feet on the tile at the end of the aisle, a few feet away. He saw a blur of blonde hair and the familiar blue of the Kroger employee's uniform polo in the corner of his eye.

Normally, he wouldn't have even looked at her. He wouldn't have felt a need to. But something in him couldn't resist.

He turned his head and looked to see her standing at the end of the aisle, in front of a freezer door that displayed boxes of fish sticks and frozen salmon filets. She wasn't even trying to be discreet about staring at him. Her big, blue eyes were set on him, long blonde hair tied up in a ponytail and a look of curiosity on her face. He met her gaze and furrowed his brow. She didn't look away, like he expected her to, or even give so much as an apologetic or abashed expression. She just kept staring, and then her lips parted like she might say something.

But Daryl was sure that she thought he was trying to steal. Probably thought he was fixing to take the case of beer and make a beeline for the front doors. That was the only logical conclusion he could come to for why she was staring at him. Even though there wasn't a trace of accusation in her face, or suspicion in her eyes. She almost looked like she was waiting for him to talk to her.

Instead, he'd turned and walked away. He hadn't even bothered to glance at her nametag. He paid for the case of beer, as well as a pack of Marlboros, and left the store, then rode his bike past the Atlanta city limits. He spent the rest of the night hiking into the woods, finishing off at least thirteen beers on his own and haphazardly scattering Merle's ashes. He even allowed himself to cry, knowing there was no one around to hear or see him. He yelled out at whatever god there might be above, cursed the heavens with a slew of drunken insults. Beat himself up over things he had no control over. And cried a little more.

He couldn't figure out why, but he dreamt about her that night. Nothing in particular, but her face appeared prevalently, refusing to go unrecognized. Daryl rarely dreamt, let alone about people he didn't know. But this time, he woke up with a vivid memory of what his subconscious had imagined while he was asleep. And it left him with a strange stirring in his gut. Caused by a girl whose name he didn't even know.

For reasons he would never be able to explain, Daryl returned to that same Kroger two days later and parked his bike out front shorty after nine o'clock. It was quiet again, nearing closing time with barely any customers. He entered the store and headed straight for the beer and wine section, the weight of Merle's death still weighing heavily on his shoulders.

And as if his subconscious wishes had been answered, she showed up again.

He felt her before he saw her. He still couldn't figure out if it was her body heat, or the way she breathed, or something else entirely – but _something_ about her caught his attention, without fail.

This time, she was standing just as close as before. He'd happened to be in the aisle where the beers and wines conjoined, one half of the shelf displaying cold bottles and cans of beers, and the other half displaying cold bottles of wine. She was no more than a few feet away, gazing thoughtfully at the rows of wine while he stared at the rows of beer beside it. He could feel her eyes on him, glancing over every couple of seconds. Like she was waiting for him to take notice of her. He purposely resisted the urge to turn his head and continued staring at the display before him, practically looking right through it.

Then she spoke, and her voice was softer and sweeter than he could've ever imagined. The very sound of it made his heart speed up. "I like yer vest."

Daryl reflexively responded with a grunted, "Huh?"

At the same time, he finally turned his head and met her gaze – shockingly blue eyes, wide and intense, fixated on him. Soft, pink lips curled into a small smile, long blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail with a single braid on the side. And a white Kroger nametag pinned to her shirt, decorated with a small music note pin and a red, heart-shaped pin. The nametag read: _Beth – Cashier_ , and below that: _I Love Music_. Something about finally knowing her name made his stomach do a flip. Once again, he had no idea why.

"I said, I like yer vest," she repeated, smiling a little wider. Her face seemed to light up as their eyes locked, and at first, it made Daryl want to turn and run away.

However, her statement left him a little confused. He glanced down at the vest he was wearing – the only one he owned anymore. It was black leather with a pair of once-white, distressed angel wings on the back, faded to a pale grey after years of wear and tear. He creased his brow and met her gaze again.

She lifted her eyebrows briefly and added, "I think it's real pretty."

The crease in in his brow deepened and he frowned. " _Pretty_?"

Beth's smile disappeared and her eyes grew wider, a light blush appearing in her cheeks. "Oh – I mean, not pretty, but like – _cool_. Sorry, I wasn't tryin' to attack yer masculinity or anything."

Daryl continued frowning, studying the small, blonde girl in front of him for a long moment as she smiled apologetically. He couldn't tell if she was being a smartass or not. Was she making fun of him?

He grunted and muttered, "The hell's that s'posed ta mean?"

She shrugged and a small smirk formed on her mouth. "Can't I just compliment yer vest? I think it looks good on you."

He found himself frozen, staring back at her in confusion, questioning nearly everything he'd ever known about females. They'd always been confusing to him, but this girl was outright _baffling_ him. Why was she trying to talk to him anyway? Maybe she was just weird. Yet he couldn't help briefly wondering if she was trying to flirt with him. But she looked so young – probably not even old enough to _be_ in the alcohol section. What would she even want to talk to an old redneck like him for?

He suddenly remembered the strange dream he'd had. How her face had appeared, and stuck in his mind even after he'd woken up. There was no denying it… he'd been silently and secretly hoping he'd catch a glimpse of her again. That was half the reason he'd returned to this specific store. Now that she'd actually begun _talking_ to him, though, he just felt like an old, nasty pervert. He had no business creeping around a young girl like her, let alone _looking_ at her. What the hell had possessed him to come back here and will her towards him?

So instead of a response, he grunted softly and nodded, then dragged his eyes away from her and turned his attention back to the rows of beer. Even though he didn't want to. He wanted to keep looking at her. He wanted to keep gazing into her big, blue eyes, and he had no idea why.

No more than a few seconds passed, and then she spoke again. "D'you know if this is any good?"

He saw her dainty hand reach out and gingerly grasp the neck of a wine bottle, pulling it from the shelf and examining it in her hands. He noticed the jewelry on her wrists first – a half-dozen thin, metal bracelets in bright green and yellow, and dark black. They clinked together when she moved her arms, glinted in the fluorescent lighting. Then he glanced at the label of the bottle and scoffed.

"Dunno much about wine. Ain't my firs' choice ta get lit, but I s'pose you'd prob'ly like it," Daryl rumbled, eyes flicking up to meet hers. His stomach did another flip as he stared into the swirling pools of blue again and another smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"Why? 'Cause it's a _girly_ drink?" She raised her eyebrows with a teasing half-smile.

He couldn't suppress the smirk that formed on his own lips. He hadn't smiled in days. _Weeks_ , more like. And now it came naturally, as if her playful, light-hearted energy were contagious.

"Didn't say that," he muttered, unable to tear his eyes away from hers.

She returned the bottle to its spot on the shelf, a half-smile still on her face, then reached out to grab a beer bottle from in front of Daryl. It was a locally brewed stout with a cartoon otter on the label, and it had been the choice Daryl was contemplating before Beth's presence distracted him. She inspected it in her hands, then looked up at him again.

"This what yer gonna get? Or were you gonna get the Coors again?" She asked.

She remembered what he'd bought last time. But how'd she know he was planning on getting that particular bottle from the shelf of dozens? She must've been just as observant as he was. Maybe more so.

He felt the back of his neck growing warm and nodded, glancing at the bottle in her hands.

She held it out to him, bracelets clinking on her wrists. "So would you recommend it?"

Daryl reached out and carefully took the bottle from her, making sure not to touch her fingers. He glanced over at the display of beers, then back to her, holding the bottle in his hand. He shrugged, then furrowed his brow and said, "Guess so, if ya like stouts. You even old enough ta drink?"

Beth's half-smile turned into a grin and she giggled softly. The sound vibrated through his bones and made his heart skip, immediately eliciting a smile of his own. She responded, "Thanks fer that. I've always been told I look younger than I am."

He gazed at her expectantly, but she just smiled at him. He paused, then asked, "So how old _are_ ya?"

There was another quiet giggle, and he thought his stomach might float up out of his body entirely. "I'm twenty-three. But I have a – an _old soul_. How old are _you_?"

She bounced the question back at him without hesitation, but that wasn't the only thing about her that intrigued him. Everything she said was the last thing he expected, and for the first time in his life, Daryl _wanted_ to talk to this girl standing beside him. It was a rare occurrence when he found another person whose voice and words and mere _presence_ didn't irritate the living hell out of him. And suddenly, he _wanted_ to talk to someone he didn't know – hell, he wanted to _know_ her. He'd never wanted to know a woman before. Not really.

And now, less than five minutes into an impromptu conversation with Beth, all of that was completely changing.

Daryl's smirk faded and he cleared his throat nervously. "Forty-three." He tried not to sound as ashamed as he felt saying it out loud, but it was difficult. Especially when he was anticipating the flicker of interest to leave her eyes as soon as she realized that he was practically geriatric.

But it didn't. In fact, it remained there, and then she grinned again and his breath nearly caught in his throat. She nodded and said, "Cool! I would've guessed thirty-six. Physically – not mentally."

There she went again, saying something strange that he didn't know how to respond to. He furrowed his brow and muttered, "Thanks. I think."

She nodded, still smiling, and gestured to the bottle in his hands. "You goin' to a party or somethin'?"

He chuckled humorlessly. "Yeah – me, myself, an' I. Real party."

"Oh." Beth's voice came out soft and weak, almost sad. Her smile faded and an expression of concern appeared on her features. It only proved to confuse Daryl even more. "How come?"

His defenses rose instinctively and he shrugged, frowning. "You off the clock or somethin'? Ain't you got some work ta get back to?"

His fingers tightened around the bottle of beer and he immediately regretted the flash of disappointment that he'd caused to appear on her face. He thought she might walk away, and even though he'd made it sound like he wanted her to, he didn't _really_ want her to.

But she didn't. She just shrugged and replied, "Gets pretty dead this time a night. Jus' thought you seemed lonely." Her eyes were still locked on his, gazing up at him, unwavering. "I get lonely sometimes, too."

He scoffed and studied her face, searching for the tell-tale sign that she was taking pity on him. Trying to treat him like a stray dog or something. He still wasn't entirely convinced that she wasn't making fun of him. He was literally old enough to be her dad, what the hell did she expect to achieve from talking to him? What did she want – to 'hang out' with an old man? It wasn't like they could be _friends_ or something. Daryl didn't _have_ friends. Merle had been his only friend. And Merle was gone.

And what the hell did she _mean_ by saying he seemed _lonely_?

"Ain't _lonely_ ," he rumbled. "Just alone."

Beth pressed her lips tightly together and nodded, and Daryl felt an ache in his stomach at the thought that he'd already fucked up this conversation. He was incapable of being friendly or approachable. Just like he was incapable of finding the words that would make him sound like less of a dickhead.

"I'll be off in ninety-five minutes," she said, eyebrows raising expectantly as she spoke. "Would you wanna come be alone with me?"

He reeled at her words and furrowed his brow in confusion as he stared back at her, continuing to frown. At first, he thought it was weird that she used such a specific measurement of time, but he decided it was probably just because _she_ was a little weird – probably a discreet nerd of sorts. Her invitation, however, was what really threw him off. His stomach turned and momentarily, he was convinced that she was fucking with him.

"Huh? This some kinda come-on or somethin'?" He grumbled, glancing her up and down before meeting her gaze again.

She blinked and stared up at him quizzically. " _Come-on_?" Then she blinked again and smirked, shaking her head. "Oh – no, I didn't mean – I just meant like, hangin' out. Ya know, playin' drinking games or whatever." She didn't even seem embarrassed that he'd gotten the wrong idea, still smirking like it was funny.

He was even more confused than before. She really wanted to 'hang out' with him? What the hell?

Daryl's frown remained, and he still had his defenses raised, trying his best to assess Beth's real intentions. But he couldn't see anything mocking or taunting or even slightly sinister in her sky blue eyes. "Why'd'ya wanna do that? Don't even know my name. Didn't yer parents ever teach ya not ta talk to strangers?"

Her smirk grew into a smile and she giggled, shaking her head. "No, not really. Besides, talkin' ta strangers is part of my job." Then she held out her hand, bracelets clinking together, and offered a handshake. "I'm Beth Greene. And you are…?"

She said it like she was reciting an instruction manual. Like she'd gone through years of rehearsing this exact interaction and receiving the same responses over and over again. Like she and him had repeated the motion several times and she was just waiting for him to play his usual part. And her eyebrows were raised expectantly and she was staring up at him with a sly smile, letting her sentence trail off as she waited for him to fill in the blank. Her hand remained between them, waiting for him to grasp it in a formal introduction.

His brow remained furrowed and he didn't really want to but damn, he really _wanted_ to – so he reached his free hand out and grasped hers in a handshake. Her skin was even softer than he'd been expecting, and it made all his muscles tense and sent a chill through his whole body, leaving goosebumps up and down his legs. Her hand was small in his, delicate, but she returned his grasp firmly and her smile grew even wider as they shook hands.

"Daryl," he rumbled. "Daryl Dixon."

Her bracelets clinked and as their hands released and their fingers slipped past each other, he felt the small callouses on her fingers. He glanced at her nametag again – Beth loved music. And she obviously played the guitar. And she measured hours in minutes. And she wanted to talk to strangers. But most importantly, she wanted to talk to _him_. She wanted to _hang out_ with him. Just the two of them.

And she was lonely. And dammit, he'd chew on broken glass before he ever admitted it aloud to another living person, but Daryl was pretty fucking lonely, too. And not just sometimes. Pretty much _all_ the time. Especially since the years kept passing him by, leaving no distinct changes in his aimless life except more wrinkles and aching joints… And _especially_ since Merle was gone.

"Daryl," she repeated with a satisfied smile, as if she were tasting his name on her tongue for the first time and deciding she liked it. She nodded, then added, "Nice ta meet you."

He nodded back, unable to respond with anything more than a quiet grunt. Hearing his name spoken aloud by such a soft voice left him reeling, perplexed by the swirl of emotions coming to life in his stomach.

"So?" She asked, still smiling, still staring up at him expectantly with doe eyes and not an ounce of embarrassment or self-doubt on her face. "You got other plans, or…?"

He shrugged, unable to shake his suspicion. The longer he looked at her, the more he was convinced that she had no business being anywhere near him. And why was she so trusting anyway? Living in a city like Atlanta, she should know better than that.

"How d'you know I ain't a serial killer or somethin'?" He asked, lip curling into a slight scowl. "Or a drug addict, or sex trafficker. Tons a those walkin' around these days."

Beth laughed. And if Daryl thought her _giggle_ had caused unfamiliar sensations to blossom in his chest, then hearing her _laugh_ had risen his blood pressure and momentarily drained all the oxygen from his lungs. She laughed like he'd told the hilarious punchline to a joke, her hand moving to her stomach as the sound echoed out around them. Then she shook her head, still smiling.

"That's a good point, but you're not _any_ a those things," she said. "You'd never hurt somebody fer no good reason. I'd be safe with you."

And it came out so matter-of-factly that it left Daryl jarred. The back of his neck heated up and he could feel it rising to his ears, thankful that his shaggy hair covered how red they were probably turning. His heart thumped in his chest and he looked her up and down again. Like she would suddenly burst out from a costume, or burst out laughing. At him.

Yet she didn't. She wasn't. She was being honest.

Somehow, he just _knew_ she was being honest. Every single one of his instincts was telling him to believe her. And that he could trust her. And that had _never_ happened before – he couldn't even remember the last time he'd met another _person_ that he felt was trustworthy, let alone a _woman_.

A really pretty woman. Whose eyes looked soft and vulnerable. Yet strong and defiant at the same time. Which made her even prettier, in his opinion.

His defenses lowered and he made an effort to speak a little softer, and slightly apologetic. "How ya know that?"

She shrugged, smirking knowingly. "Just do."

Daryl glanced down at the bottle in his hand, then back to her. He opened his mouth to ask why the hell she'd want to waste her Thursday night with a sad old man like him. But he was stopped by the sound of the intercom overhead, a man's slightly irritated voice booming from every speaker in the ceiling of the grocery store.

"Good evening – Beth, checker service to checkstand five, please," the intercom announced. "Beth, checker service to _five_. Thank you."

He watched Beth's face light up and her eyebrows raise as she glanced over her shoulder. Then she nodded at him and raised her hand in an apologetic wave. "Whoops – they need me up front. Gotta go."

She moved to turn and walk away but Daryl took a step forward and spoke, causing her to freeze and glance back at him. "Wait – said yer off soon? I can come back. If ya really want."

He expected an indifferent shrug, or for her to brush him off and leave. He expected her to realize how disinterested she actually was in him. But then he watched her face light up again, in an entirely different way. It made his breath stutter in his throat and his stomach do a joyous flip.

It made him think she actually _did_ really want him to come back.

She smiled and nodded. "Yeah! At eleven. Meet me up front. I'll see you then!"

And she flashed him one more bright grin before turning and rushing off toward the front of the store.

Daryl remained frozen in the beer and wine section for several moments after Beth walked away. He replayed their conversation in his mind, overanalyzed her facial expressions and the tone of her voice. He wound up returning the bottle of beer to the shelf and leaving the store, slipping out the door while Beth wasn't looking. And when he reached his bike, he hopped on and slipped his key into the ignition, fully intending to start it up and drive away. And _not_ come back.

Because what the hell was he thinking, talking to some young, cute girl like that? Thinking she wanted to hang out with him? She had to be pulling his leg. And even if she wasn't, she must be out of her damn mind to invite a guy like Daryl Dixon out to spend time with her. What would they even do? And where would they go? What if she still lived with her parents? He sure as shit wasn't about to go walking into some strangers' house, introducing himself as the forty-something-year-old that their daughter just met at work. Parents had _never_ liked him. And he understood why.

But he stopped, and he found himself staring down at the key in his hand, petrified with indecision. He didn't _want_ to leave. And as much as he didn't want to endure whatever kind of awkward shitshow that girl might be dragging him into, he _really_ didn't want to blow her off. Or never see her again.

That was the first time Daryl admitted to himself that he kind of liked Beth Greene, and that she intrigued him in a way he'd never been intrigued by another person. He wanted to know more about her. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to _hear_ her talk. He wanted to watch her face light up over and over again. He wanted to hear her say his name again.

He wanted to _know_ her. Whether that meant being friends or whatever else. Shit, would it really kill him to make a friend? Not like Merle was around to make it so difficult anymore. There was no longer anything stopping Daryl from making all his own decisions about his life. Even if that meant deciding to talk to a strange, younger girl he met at the grocery store. Even if it somehow ended up being a bad decision.

He spent the next hour-and-a-half sitting on his bike outside the store, watching cars pull in and out of the parking lot, chain-smoking Marlboros and thinking of nothing else but Beth and what he could say or do or where they could go. He tried to prepare himself. Tried to rehearse what he might say, what they might talk about. At 10:56, he flicked the butt of his thirteenth cigarette and re-entered the store, heart racing from a mixture of nicotine and excitement.

Beth was exactly where she'd said she'd be. Daryl lingered near the self-checkout area, out of sight, as he watched her shut off the light of her checkstand and walk over to the time clock posted on the wall nearby, chatting and laughing with one of her female coworkers along the way. Once she'd clocked out and waved goodbye to her manager and coworkers, she turned and headed toward the doors, and he could see her looking around. Searching for him. When her eyes landed on him, spotting him near the self-checkout, her face lit up and she grinned, waving eagerly and rushing over to join him.

His pulse rabbited at the sight, and he didn't know why. He couldn't even suppress the small smile that formed on his lips as he watched her approach. All he knew was that the look on her face had cemented his decision to return. He didn't regret it for a second. He was glad he hadn't pussed out and left.

Daryl was even kind of glad Merle was no longer around to convince him that it was a bad idea. Because, for the first time, Merle would've been _wrong_.

Beth exuded a confidence that Daryl had never encountered before. She was small, but her personality was larger than life. It was _addictive_. He didn't talk much, but she didn't seem to care. And she didn't push him – not in a way that irritated him, anyway. But she certainly didn't refrain from challenging him every chance she got.

They picked out a case of beer and a bottle of wine together, and after buying a fresh pack of smokes to go along with them, Daryl led her to his bike and insisted she wear his helmet because he didn't have an extra. He tried not to think too much about how she looked sitting behind him as they rode away from the store because he was afraid the jittery nerves the thought caused would make him wreck. But she wrapped her arms around him so tightly, and her body was so warm and soft against his back. He almost wanted to keep riding, just to feel her close to him for a little longer.

He refused to take her back to his shitty cabin on the outskirts of town when she asked if he wanted to go back to his house. It was still messy, littered with trash and rancid with the stink of sweat, alcohol, and cigarettes. It was the only thing Merle had left him, and quite frankly, Daryl wanted nothing to do with it. He only returned at night, to sleep for a few hours, before finding any and every excuse to leave again. Beth didn't ask about all that, though. She happily directed him to her apartment, assuring him that there would be no parents or roommates for him to meet.

She lived less than five miles away from the Kroger store, in a six-story apartment building set in a quiet, working-class neighborhood. Her apartment was on the third floor, a one-room studio with a conjoined living room and bedroom and hardwood floors. It was unlike any apartment he'd ever been inside, warm and cozy, decorated with pastel colors and filled with various rugs, soft furniture, and even softer pillows. There were a few houseplants, a small TV, a video game console, a radio, a desk with a laptop, a guitar sitting beside the bed, and a large bookcase with a vast collection of books that seemed excessive for one girl. Then again, what the hell did Daryl know about girls? Not much.

She had a globe of the world sitting in the corner – like the ones he'd only ever seen inside classrooms. There were various paintings on the walls, a half-dozen posters of star constellations and observed galaxies, but no actual pictures. He looked around, searched for framed photos or hints of a family or friends. But there were none. Her bookcase didn't even contain any photo albums, or yearbooks, or anything personal. He thought it was strange, but he didn't ask questions.

So far, everything _about_ her was strange. And he really, _really_ liked it.

She opened up the windows and let in the cool October breeze and the sound of passing cars. She changed out of her work shirt and into a yellow blouse, nearly giving Daryl heart palpitations as he observed the way that particular color made her hair and eyes glow brighter than ever. He felt dirty, like he had no place in her spotless, cozy apartment. At first, he thought for sure that he didn't belong. He began to think it had been a mistake to come with her. And who the hell would let a guy they _just met_ into their home like this? Was she out of her damn mind?

She had to be, because she _insisted_ he make himself comfortable. And despite his silent insistence that he would only muck up her apartment – and her life – she wouldn't allow him to feel uncomfortable. He briefly contemplated leaving a few times. But then she looked at him and smiled and he knew there was no way he could turn around and walk out of that apartment. Away from her.

A few hours later, Daryl admitted to himself that there was no way he could _ever_ walk away from Beth. Period. He was captivated by her. _Everything_ about her. The way she smelled, the way she talked, the way she laughed and giggled. All the things she had to say, and all the things that were going on inside her head. He couldn't take his eyes off her, and after five beers, he felt drunk. Even though he wasn't. But being with her made him _feel_ like he was. He was absolutely transfixed by everything she had to say, and every little question or doubt that she had.

He didn't even think twice about it when she began asking him about his personal life. For the first time, he had no qualms about opening up. Just a little, at least. He told her about recently returning to Atlanta after being out in Savannah for several months, working a job that left him enough money to relax for a little while. He told her about all the odd little jobs he'd done here and there – construction, oil rigs, farm work and whatnot . About how he hadn't graduated high school and had only ever survived off whatever he could make from his own hard labor. He tried not to mention Merle or the shady behavior they'd participated in together, as brothers, for so many years, but it was hard to leave those parts out. Beth had a lot of questions, and even when his answers were less than desirable, her face didn't fall with disappointment, and she didn't stare back at him with any trace of judgment in her eyes. She just seemed fascinated – though Daryl told himself that there was no possible _way_ she could be as fascinated with him as he was with her.

She understood – or at least _said_ she understood – how and why Daryl had fallen in behind his big brother for so long. Why he'd let his own life and happiness fall to the wayside while he ran around Georgia and looked for, or ran away from, trouble. When she asked where Merle was now, Daryl couldn't stop a knot from forming in his throat, and he told her that Merle had died. As if she could read his mind, she stopped asking about Daryl's past. She changed the subject, asking about something unrelated. He couldn't describe the emotion that suddenly overwhelmed him in that moment.

He asked about her, too. Tried to find out everything he could about her life, who she was, where she'd come from. Her accent wasn't nearly as thick as his, or most other people's in Georgia, but that wasn't exactly weird. She didn't elaborate on the details of her own past, and Daryl had never been one to press another person into talking when they didn't want to. He asked questions hesitantly, and even though he still had a thousand more inquiries about who she was, he kept them inside. Told himself there'd be time to ask later. That they'd hang out again, talk some more. Hopefully, a lot more.

From what she did tell him, he learned that she'd grown up in Georgia when she was younger, but had moved away many years ago with her family. She said she returned after high school, but didn't mention any sort of plans for college or whether she already attended. She explained how she got a job at the Kroger store – the same one she still worked at – and moved her way up until she was making enough money to get her own apartment and live in decent comfort on her own. She didn't explain how she'd gotten by until that point, but Daryl didn't ask either. She told him that she loved playing the guitar and was trying to read as many books as she could, and that she spent most of her free time walking around Atlanta and "people-watching," or writing in her journal, or watching TV shows and movies she'd never seen before, or listening to and making music. She said she didn't have any friends and, once again, he didn't ask how or why, even though he was baffled that a girl like her didn't have a whole swarm of best friends and suitors chasing after her. He thought she might feel the same about other people as he did – scared that they would disappoint if they were allowed to get too close. She didn't mention whether she still talked to her family, or if they were even still alive. He didn't find it all that strange, especially considering how he'd felt about his own family.

The thing about her that he found most strange was her deep, genuine curiosity. She wanted to know _everything_. About the world, about other people. About _him_. Sure, he'd met people like that before, but those people's curiosity had always been motivated by ill intentions. Beth _had_ no ill intentions. She wasn't making judgments or assumptions or drawing her own conclusions inside her head while she listened to him talk. She was just _listening_. Observing. Soaking it all in and piecing it together, making sense of the grunting, scowling, mumbling enigma that was Daryl Dixon. He could see it in her bright eyes, in the way she looked at him and the way her soft, pink lips curled into a smile whenever something suddenly made more sense.

She let him smoke his cigarettes inside, though he made a point to sit right next to the open window and direct as much of the smoke as possible out into the night air. She made a comment about how fascinating it was to watch, and though he thought it was odd, he merely chuckled and brushed it off, offering her a cigarette and chuckling again when she turned it down. They polished off the entire bottle of wine together, as well as half the case of beer. Daryl didn't leave until the sun was beginning to peek above the horizon. The grass was glistening with morning dew when he returned to his bike and rode away from Beth's apartment building, alcohol fading from his system and cool, morning air clearing his head.

He didn't go home, though. He went to a nearby park and sat down on a bench, smoking the rest of his cigarettes and watching the sun rise. He didn't know why. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt like sitting in a park and just… _being_ there. But spending all night with that girl had sparked something to life inside him. Something he didn't recognize. Something that excited him and terrified him all at once. He thought about her the entire time, and he could no longer tell whether his heart was speeding up from the cigarettes or from the memory of how her voice sounded in his ears.

Beth left him with her phone number and promised that they'd see each other again. He didn't know if she was asking him or telling him, but it felt like she'd already decided for the both of them. She sent him a text message mere hours after they parted, which would've annoyed him if it were anyone else. At any other time in his life.

But it only intrigued him more. Made him want to see her again, talk to her again, spend another night with her. He wanted more than a night – he wanted _endless_ nights. He wanted days, mornings, afternoons, and everything in between. He wanted to know everything there was to know about her, and then some.

Of course, he eventually got his wish. Though it wasn't at all what he'd expected.

But that had become the norm for Beth – she was _never_ what Daryl expected.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading! As always, a chapter photo can be found on AO3 and tumblr. What kinds of questions do you have so far? What kinds of things are you expecting/hoping from this fic?


	3. the missing half

_**chapter two – the missing half**_

Beth and Daryl spent countless more nights together. They talked, laughed, drank, ate, played, joked. She sang for him and played the guitar, and he bought a brand new, yellow motorcycle helmet just so he could take her for Sunday morning rides on his bike. He showed her parts of the Georgia countryside that she'd never seen before. And she showed him the parts of humanity that he'd never even known existed. She saw beauty in everything, and she opened his eyes to its presence in the most unexpected places. In the most unexpected ways.

Everything about her was unexpected. Unpredictable. Impossible to figure out. Yet so familiar at the same time. A palpable recognition that he couldn't place but could _feel_ , deep in his soul. Like they'd been _destined_ to meet – even though he didn't believe in any of that 'destiny' or 'fate' bullshit.

She didn't like going out to bars or restaurants. He took her out on "real dates" a few times, and she enjoyed it for the most part, but afterwards, they'd agreed that they both preferred being alone. In the quiet. Away from the hectic stress of the general public and the crowds of strangers. The only thing they really enjoyed going out for was to see a movie in the theatre – and only if there wasn't a large crowd watching the same movie. They liked crowds well enough, but only from afar. She preferred strolling the sidewalks or sitting on benches and watching people. Observing. Making quiet jokes to each other and making up elaborate, nonsense backstories for the particularly interesting characters they'd see.

Daryl discovered that Beth had meant it when she asked if he wanted to be 'alone with her.' She was just as alone as he was – no family, no friends. She never even had calls or texts from other people, unless it was about work. She didn't have any social media accounts, and the only websites he ever saw her browsing were Wikipedia and Pinterest. She was all by herself in Atlanta, and it made his heart ache. But he didn't ask her about it.

She was happy and carefree. Not lonely by any means. She was living a life that she seemed very proud of, and he couldn't help but want to be a part of it. In any way he could. Especially after seeing how much she didn't _need_ him. She was _choosing_ to include him, and it reminded him that he was there for no other reason than because she _wanted_ him there. In a way, it made _him_ want to be there all that much more. He wondered what she'd seen in him that made him the exception. But he didn't ask. Whatever it was, he just wanted to do everything in his power to keep it up. Didn't want to risk reminding her that she could do way better than him.

 _Road to ruin  
No paper trail  
No mercy shown  
For heaven's sake_

They spent most of the first couple of months in her apartment. Evenings spent going on long walks to the park, taking more frequent motorcycle rides, watching movies and TV shows, talking and laughing and eating dinner together – ordering in, carrying out, cooking in her small kitchen. Nights spent listening to and playing music, gazing at the stars, sipping beer or wine or whiskey. Days or evenings when she was at work and he would wait, chain smoking, killing time, counting down the minutes until she'd be off and they could be together again.

And then there were afternoons, with lunch and washing dishes and dancing in the living room while the sunlight poured in through the windows. Trips to the laundromat and trips to the grocery store and trips to the gas station or the Chinese restaurant down the block. Taking long naps together on the couch on days off. Even the most mundane of tasks became something he looked forward to, from dusting her apartment to cleaning up all the piles of trash in his own shitty, little cabin and making it inhabitable again. Or even just sitting around and watching her read a book or write in her journal, pretending to busy himself with something else. Or waiting for her – pretending to watch TV but actually listening to her sing in the shower. He even enjoyed tagging along on her shopping trips, especially when he got to see her trying clothes on and indecisively choosing a new blouse.

He caught himself smiling. Often. Chuckling. Laughing. Something that most people might not find odd, but for Daryl, joking and being light-hearted had always been a rare occurrence. Suddenly, smiling became second nature, and the laughter that often echoed through him would bring a lightness to his soul that was indescribable. It came so naturally when he was with her. And it was impossible to suppress when every single thing about her made him so damn _happy_.

A Halloween spent wandering the streets of Atlanta, admiring all the costumes and the kids. Holding hands while they walked. Ducking into bars here and there just to watch the costume contests. Laughing and sharing their first kiss in a park under the moonlight. He'd thought it was cute when she put on a pair of alien antennas and dressed in a lime green bodysuit that she'd picked up at a thrift store. And he didn't complain one bit when she insisted on dabbing his mouth with fake blood and dressing him in a long, black, vampire's cloak. He only needed to take the fake teeth out when they stopped to eat at a 24-hour burger joint.

He got his hair cut for the first time in nearly four years because she made a comment that it was beautiful, but he needed to do more to keep it healthy. He had no problem accompanying Beth to her monthly salon visits, listening to the hairdressers _ooh_ and awe over how soft and thick and _healthy_ Beth's hair was. He liked seeing the little bounce in her step whenever they left the salon. But he had to push himself to enter a barber shop on his own, and he struggled with the thought of someone touching his hair. Clenched his fists and his jaw the whole time he sat in that chair. But then he saw how the tears brimmed her eyes when he showed up to pick her up from work that night. And she couldn't stop running her hands through his hair for hours afterward. So he vowed to make haircuts a regular ritual from then on.

There were comments here and there that made him think she wanted to get out of the city every now and then and feel the closeness of nature. And then nights spent at her apartment began fluctuating into nights spent at his cabin. Mostly weekends, or when she had two days off in a row from work. Sitting on the porch, in the moonlight, staring up at the vast sky above. Listening to the crickets and the owls and the cicadas, the utter lack of civilization. Listening to the old wind chimes that hung from his porch, which she particularly loved for reasons he didn't quite understand. Holding hands, laughing, hugging each other closer and tighter.

And then there were camping trips, with fishing and hunting and lying together beneath the stars, holding hands and cuddling close for warmth. Beth refused to actually kill anything, which didn't surprise him in the least. But she was more than happy to catch-and-release the fish, and her eyes lit up with something that made Daryl's stomach flip-flop whenever she watched him shooting a squirrel or a rabbit with his crossbow, or cleaning and cooking them. She was fascinated with everything he had to tell her, or teach her, and constantly marveled at his natural ability to survive without the need of anyone else. He assured her that she had that same natural ability, just in a different form, and that she was already way smarter than he'd ever be. She talked a lot about the 'natural order of things,' and how interesting the 'circle of life' was. And she knew even more species of plants and birds than he did.

They did a lot of kissing when they were out in the wilderness. And sometimes, she would start crying while they were gazing up at the stars or listening to the cicadas sing. He never really asked why because, in a way, he already knew.

A Thanksgiving spent together, just the two of them and no one else. Beth cooked and Daryl tried to help, but he didn't know much about cooking so he mostly just ate. Laughing and talking and enjoying the good food, sipping wine, watching every Thanksgiving-themed movie they could find before falling asleep. Cuddled up on the couch together.

Nights began melting into mornings, spent squirming around in her bed or his bed, or on her couch. Cuddling closer, shifting to get comfortable, hair sticking to skin and clothes tangling in sheets. Waking to drink coffee and smoke cigarettes by the open window, or on the porch. Talking about their dreams (he could never remember his, but loved hearing about hers). Brushing their teeth together, sharing coy smiles and flirtatious glances. Making breakfast together – her favorite was waffles, his was omelets. Lounging around in pajamas with messy hair, sharing bacon-flavored kisses.

Picking her up from work slowly turned into dropping her off at work, as well. And sometimes, he'd bring her lunch in the middle of her shift just because he couldn't wait eight whole hours to see her face again. He eventually began teaching himself how to cook (something _besides_ squirrels or rabbits or deer), and then they were cooking meals _together_ , and he was bringing her homemade lunches. And her eyes were constantly lighting up with surprise and wonder, like she was unendingly impressed by everything he did. Whether he presented her with a sandwich or a five-course meal.

More and more of his clothes were ending up in her apartment, strewn across furniture or folded neatly inside the dresser drawer she'd designated specifically for his use. She stole both of his favorite hoodies and wore them regularly, but he didn't ask for them back. They looked better on her anyway. Plus, she'd more than made up for it by clearing a whole spot in the shower for his soaps and shampoos – _and_ buying him his _own_ bottles of soap and shampoo to keep at her place, because he kept forgetting his. As well as a brand new loofa. He'd never owned a loofa before, but he used it every time he showered at her apartment.

A Christmas spent together, the first in over thirty years that Daryl could call _good_. Doing nothing in particular but the usual, with the added ambiance of the Christmas tree in Beth's apartment and the lights strung around her walls. Watching holiday movies, drinking eggnog, eating food. She dragged him along to a midnight mass at a nearby church, though he wasn't sure why. He still didn't know what religion she was, just that she believed in God or _something_ bigger than them. Seeing the way she smiled and hearing her singing hymns made the whole trip worth it. So did holding hands on the way home, and hearing her talk about how much she loved the crunching sound their boots made in the snow.

Long talks turned into soul-deep outbursts and intense conversations about the meaning of life, the things that made people who they are, and the true beauty that existed in humanity. It became clear to Daryl why Beth had said she had an 'old soul.' And something about her made him feel vulnerable and raw, open wide for the world to see.

Probably because she was the kindest, most honest, and most understanding person he'd ever met before in his entire life.

She never pushed him to open himself up. But before long, it came naturally, and he was letting words and emotions escape that he'd been holding in for way too long. He told her things he'd never told anyone else before, let alone spoken out loud. And she listened. And held him. And told him that all his preconceived notions about himself were flat-out _wrong_. And that, no matter how long it might take her, she'd _prove_ it to him.

He cried a few times. She cried more times than he could count.

And not just when they were talking, but often, sometimes randomly. He liked that about her. He'd never liked women who cried too much, but with Beth, it was _different_. She didn't always cry out of grief or empathy – half the time, it was joy or excitement. She was honest and real, and she let every emotion flow through her like a storm. Even if that meant spending an entire evening crying in his arms for reasons she couldn't possibly put into words. For reasons he didn't _need_ her to explain.

And she didn't try to hide anything from him. Not really.

Sometimes, she seemed too smart for her own good. Like she knew things that did nothing but weigh her down. He knew that ignorance really could be bliss, and it made him thankful that he was just a dumbass redneck from the backwoods of Georgia. He had to remind himself, often, that she was only 23. Even though the age difference had left his mind mere weeks after meeting her – he was still baffled that she was so _intelligent_. And wise. He'd never met someone as smart as her. Or as witty. Or as compassionate. If it weren't for her very obvious youth, he would've thought she were years older than him. Based on her maturity, her grace, the way her mind worked, and the unending sense of empathy she constantly carried, he felt like she was too smart to even be _human_.

Too _evolved_ , somehow.

He hadn't _seriously_ thought that, of course. Not for a long time, anyway.

There were a handful of times when they argued. It was never anything serious, and the anger never lasted for longer than an hour at most. It was always his own fault – he knew that, and took responsibility for it. Beth didn't pick fights or intentionally start arguments, she didn't say hurtful things. _Ever_. She got moody at times, but always retreated into herself rather than lashing out. She _never_ lost her temper. Never held grudges or resentment, never spited him. But she _did_ push him. Sometimes she pushed so hard, and pried open parts of himself that Daryl didn't want to see, and he knew no other way to deal with it than to get angry. She never faulted him for it. She understood, comforted him, talked him through it. Fought back when she needed to, refused to let him close up or run away or put her down in retaliation. _Always_ forgave him.

He felt himself growing with her. In a way that he'd been so _sure_ he was incapable of.

For as long as he could remember, Daryl had felt alone. Like he wasn't exactly _like_ everyone else. He thought his big brother might've felt the same, but if he did, then Merle drowned it out with booze, drugs, fighting, and loose women. Daryl had never found solace in any of those things. The only comfort he'd ever found was in solitude, outside of walls, in nature. Staring up at the sky, or the stars. Wondering where he really belonged. Then, as suddenly as she'd appeared beside him in that Kroger store, as suddenly as the seasons changed – creeping up, making their presence known but arriving quietly nonetheless – he found a place that felt as if it had been _made_ for him.

A place beside Beth.

 _Sheets on the wall  
Ashamed to love  
Frolic your faith  
So refuse to come_

Days and weeks blurred into months. New adventures turned into rituals and routines. Falling asleep alone or waking up without her by his side became an irregular experience, and one that he strongly disliked. Everything felt so _easy_ with Beth. All the things that had always scared him away from the prospect of a real relationship were suddenly nothing more than second nature. He could no longer picture an existence without her, and she never seemed to demand more than he was willing to give. Even though he was willing to give _everything_ … She didn't _need_ everything. Just him. Exactly as he was.

She was content, carefree, light-hearted, optimistic. She was unquestionably loyal and trustworthy, reliable and unfailing. He never doubted her, never caught himself second-guessing anything about her. She was full of hope and curiosity and potential. Potential for something bigger than he'd ever been a part of – than he'd ever _wanted_ to be a part of. She saw beauty in everything, and showed it to him in the most unexpected places.

Maybe it was an old couple holding hands at a restaurant. Or a rainbow after a storm. Or a family playing together at a park. Or a mural painted on the side of a building. Or a baby smiling at her in the grocery store. Or a bird feeding its babies in the nest on her windowsill. Or even a flower sprouting from the crack of a sidewalk. There were countless scenes and images that she would point out to him, and marvel softly in his ear, "Don't you think that's beautiful?"

And he did. He'd never noticed before. But he really did think it was _beautiful_. Just like her.

Daryl blinked, and the next thing he knew, "I love you" was falling out of his mouth like an old habit. But it poured from Beth's mouth like the sweetest liquid he'd ever tasted.

They were _in love_.

He'd fallen head over fucking _heels_ for her, there was no denying it. They were growing closer and closer, in ways that he'd never even thought possible. He'd never really had a 'best friend' before, and if he did, it probably would've been Merle. But now, when that term came to mind, the _only_ person he could think of was Beth.

She was everything he'd ever wanted and then some. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to spend every waking moment with her, in her presence, at her side. He wanted to protect her, support her, encourage her. Listen to her, talk to her, tell her about his day, hear about hers. When he had good news, she was the first person he wanted to share it with. When he had a bad day, she was the _only_ person he wanted to curl up next to. He no longer had a desire to be alone. In fact, he felt like he was _missing_ something when she wasn't around.

He suddenly understood what people meant when they said "my other half." The tiniest details of their personalities became large facets of their developing relationship.

Her favorite music was pop-punk and emo from the early 2000s – though he had absolutely no idea _why_. She listened to it constantly, played covers of her favorite songs on the guitar, watched old music videos and sang along. He tuned it out at first. Then he found himself adding Hawthorne Heights, Fall Out Boy, and Bayside to the playlists on his phone, and no matter what she played, he _always_ loved hearing her sing and strum the guitar. He noticed some of his favorite songs popping up on her playlists, too. Old country songs, artists that had died way before she was even born. Before long, she was playing covers of Johnny Cash, Tom Waits, and Hank Williams right alongside all her regular emo and pop-punk songs.

Her favorite movies were romantic comedies ( _typical_ , he thought), and her favorite TV shows consisted of things like _The Office_ , _Parks and Recreation_ , _Survivor_ , and _Invader Zim_. Daryl had never really watched TV until they started hanging out, and he suddenly found the shows she liked growing on him. He'd watch episodes while she was at work, and then wonder to himself when he started liking that kind of shit. He didn't complain when she wanted to watch _13 Going On 30_ for the eight millionth time. But he did insist on watching his own favorites – like _Scarface_ and _True Grit_. And before long, she was surprising him with old Western films that he'd never seen before, or classics that he never would've thought she'd like. They spent countless hours curled up on the couch, binge-watching shows or movies, especially when the weather was too dreary to do much else.

When his 44th birthday came, she respected his wishes not to make a big deal out of it. Though she conspicuously requested the day off from work, and then planned their day to include most of his favorite activities. And then she surprised him by baking him a special cake – German chocolate, his favorite – and insisting on watching him blow out the candles while he 'made a wish.' (He wished for 50 more birthdays with Beth.) Afterwards, she played her guitar and sang a special version of "Happy Birthday." And at the end of the night, they kissed longer and deeper than he could remember ever kissing any woman before.

Valentine's Day made Daryl sweat, but he considered it a success when Beth grinned, cried, and repeatedly kissed him for several minutes after he presented her with a bouquet of roses, a stuffed animal, and a couple new bracelets for her vast collection. Then they spent the evening together, eating dinner and reading about the history of Saint Valentine. She cried some more after that, but not so much out of happiness. They cuddled closer than ever and fell asleep together after watching one of her favorite romantic comedies. And she kept the bouquet of roses alive for over a month. The stuffed animal earned a spot of honor on her desk from which it never moved. The bracelets clinked together on her wrists daily, glinting brighter in the sunlight than any others she owned.

Just as naturally as the "I love you"s had begun, something blossomed and grew between them. Something that neither of them had cared to put a label on. Because, even though it was unspoken, they were both well aware that it was something to acknowledge and respect. That it was something to treasure and hold close and continue to nurture. It was so _effortless_ , Daryl didn't even have to think about it. He just did what felt right – what felt _natural_. It was like finally being able to be _himself_ with someone, and being loved for it all the same.

 _Cheery call  
Chug along  
Knock it off till you see that beauty's gone_

When the cold weather began letting up and hints of spring arrived, their rides on his bike grew more frequent once again. No matter how many miles he rode with her arms wrapped around him and her body pressed close to his back, he still got the same giddy feeling inside. It was half the reason he liked the rides so much. The other half was the pure joy that only his motorcycle could give him combined with the pure joy that only the look on Beth's face could give him – the look she got whenever he'd take her somewhere new, or just to somewhere she particularly liked.

Like the look on her face as they sat parked near the runway of the Atlanta international airport, sprawled on their backs in the grass, watching planes take off and fly overhead. Big, blue eyes staring up in awe, pink lips stretched into a wide grin, blonde hair whipping around her head from the sudden burst of wind. There was nothing else like it. Daryl wasn't even watching the planes anymore – they were old news. All he could see was _her_.

In the late spring, he ran low on money and picked up a job with a plumbing company. They fell into a new routine and he missed her more than ever while he was at work. But they spent every possible moment together. And on days when she was off and he had to work, she would surprise him by showing up with lunch. More than once, he had to threaten a couple of his younger coworkers for their crude comments about his 'hot, young piece.'

It was sometime shortly after he'd gone back to work when Beth and Daryl made love for the first time. After a long day of work, when they'd been apart for what felt like an eternity. Heated kisses, tender touches, skin strokes, and slightly panted breaths had gradually escalated over the months, evolving into hands slipping beneath shirts and thighs pressing intentionally into groins. A tension forming between them that was impossible to ignore.

And then it culminated on one of the first hot nights of early summer. The kissing led to heavy petting, which led even farther than they'd ever gone before. And a few hours later, they were whispering sweet nothings, pillow talking, and cuddling on the bed in nothing but their underwear. Daryl had never felt comfortable being shirtless around a woman before, always opting to leave his shirt on even when they slept. And he had definitely never felt comfortable being naked around a woman without the aid of alcohol. But Beth had always presented herself to him, unabashed, and this time was no different. She held him tighter and closer than he thought was possible. He didn't even have the urge to leave afterwards, or put his clothes on and hide. It just felt like the final piece to the relationship they'd been building together. Another routine that fell into place.

Every time after that seemed better than the last, though he still replayed the first night in his head during 'alone' times. And whenever he'd mumble the word "sex," or refer to it by any other term, technical or otherwise, Beth would quickly correct him: "Daryl, we don't have sex; we _make love_."

As summer arrived, hot and humid, they wound up spending more time out at his cabin, sipping on booze and talking under the stars. Especially if it rained, because Beth loved listening to the rain and feeling it on her skin. There was a pond less than a mile away that they would walk to and go swimming in – occasionally skinny dipping, but usually in swimsuits. Some days, the only thing that got him through his twelve-hour shifts was the thought of Beth in a bikini. Whether it was in the sunlight or the moonlight, she glowed the same: _magnificently_. He preferred the pond to the public pools, though, because he liked the privacy. Sometimes, he couldn't figure out why she would _ever_ want to swim in a public pool. But she dragged him along more times than he could count, and he didn't complain. He liked being able to see her swimming through the clear, chlorine water.

She moved even more eloquently than she talked, whether she was walking or swimming or working or playing the guitar or dancing. Or washing her hair under the showerhead beside him. Or lying beneath him. Or squirming atop him. Or simply sleeping. He could watch her for _hours_.

Independence Day brought sticky humidity and bright, loud fireworks. Beth was fascinated with the shapes they formed in the sky, and left her windows open all week just so she could hear the illegal firecrackers going off throughout the city, and the whoops and hollers of joy that always followed. A strange thing to do, considering most people were annoyed by the sounds – and the July heat. But there wasn't much about her that he actually found strange anymore. It was all endearing at this point. Just another interesting aspect of her personality. She kept surprising him, no matter how many days and weeks and months they spent together. He went out of his way to track down some illegal fireworks, and the look on her face when she lit the fuse of a bottle rocket and watched it go off was more than enough to make the Fourth of July his new favorite holiday of all time. Although that seemed to change with _every_ new holiday he spent with her.

The lack of pictures in Beth's apartment slowly changed. As the months passed, and she made more memories with Daryl, the photos began appearing on her walls and shelves, right alongside all the paintings and posters of constellations. Framed photos of them, together, in various settings, various outfits, but always with the same beaming smiles. Always with his arm around her, holding her close. Or their lips pressed together. Or her arms around his neck, or her lips pressed to his cheek. And the picture gallery in his phone consisted of nothing but Beth, all blonde hair and blue eyes and milky skin.

Her 24th birthday was in August. Daryl took her to a tattoo parlor as a surprise, having gotten the idea from the several hours she'd spent admiring and running her fingers over the various tattoos on his skin. He wasn't entirely sure she'd like it – until he saw the tears forming in her eyes when they walked through the doors and he presented her with a book full of matching couples tattoos to choose from. She cried the entire time they were in the small shop, though not out of pain, and apologized profusely to the artist. But it made Daryl's heart soar, seeing her so overwhelmed with joy and genuine surprise. And when they left, he decided his new _favorite_ tattoo was the small rocketship on the inside of his right wrist – because it matched the small planet Beth had gotten on the inside of her left wrist. Because the two images fit into a perfect little picture whenever they held hands.

He took her for a particularly special ride on his bike afterwards, and then made her dinner. And when they made love atop a pile of soft blankets in his backyard, under the stars in the summer evening heat, she cried again. As they fell asleep, wrapped up together, she told him she still felt 23.

More days and weeks blurred past, summer fading into autumn and suddenly reminding Daryl that he'd just spent the best _year_ of his entire life with a woman he met completely by chance. A year, and he still felt like the luckiest fucker in the world. Still wondered what the hell he could've possibly done to deserve someone like Beth. Still thanked whatever god or universal deity was out there for leading him to her.

Their long talks began drifting toward the future more and more often. He was so sure that a woman like her had big plans for life, ambitious plans that might not include him. But she never talked about moving, or leaving, finding another job or going to school or whatever. She didn't even want to leave the store she worked at, always saying that she was far too attached to her regular customers to abandon them. He got a little scared, letting his insecurities get the best of him from time to time. But he never doubted what she said. He no longer feared that she would abandon him. And _he_ sure as hell wasn't going anywhere – he had no plans for his life. There was nothing bigger or more fulfilling than being with Beth, which was already a giant leap from the aimless, mundane life he'd led before meeting her. If she left, he'd be right by her side. If anything, they'd leave _together_.

Because he'd already decided: he'd follow her _anywhere_. And the only thing he feared anymore was losing her. _Nothing_ scared Daryl… Nothing but the thought of a world without Beth.

 _Perfect bloom  
Perfect might  
Sell it as this love crept out of sight_

The long shifts at work finally paid off at the end of October. He'd managed to clock enough overtime and save back enough money to plan a Halloween trip for the two of them. Because, even though she didn't express any desire to leave or move, she'd talked about travelling and seeing the world a few times, and he'd definitely noticed. So he took note and began planning something out that he thought she would enjoy, doing the best he could with what little knowledge he had about the world outside of Georgia. He'd never been one to travel – hell, this would be his first _real_ vacation ever. His family had always been way too poor to travel anywhere, or take vacations, and Merle had always been bound within state lines by court orders. And there had never really been a _reason_ to leave the state. Nor someone to share it with.

They took five days off together and got on a plane to New Orleans. Beth cried at the view from the plane window, and Daryl's slight anxiety from lift-off disappeared as soon as their hands were clasped together. They got a small, quiet hotel in the French Quarter and roamed the streets for the first two days, touring the historical sites and museums, visiting souvenir shops, watching Halloween parades and festivals. The only thing he'd been _sure_ that she would like was the rich musical culture of the city – and he was right. Her eyes lit up with unfounded fascination as they learned about the roots of jazz music in the museums. And she glowed brighter than he'd ever seen when she was dancing in the streets of New Orleans, music playing all around them, the colorful skirt of her dress flowing around her legs as she moved and swayed and laughed. And as the bass thrummed his chest, Daryl kissed her smiling lips long and hard beneath a streetlight. It was like having their first kiss all over again.

The third day didn't go quite as well. They went on a Halloween-themed haunted tour, learning about the more gruesome and paranormal side of New Orleans' long history. Until that point, they'd avoided graveyards and haunted houses, though not intentionally. But when Daryl saw the way the tears poured from Beth's eyes as they approached the gates of a large, old cemetery, felt the trembling of her hand and saw the sobs beginning to build in her throat, he immediately turned around and led her far away. They abandoned their tours and their itinerary for the day. She was unable to explain to him the grief she'd suddenly felt, but his instincts told him that she was too empathetic for such dark tales and grim places.

She was sunlight, constantly fighting to shine through the dark clouds. And he wanted to be the wind that kept all those clouds away. So she could beam proudly, unhindered.

They spent the rest of their trip to New Orleans visiting the aquarium and more museums, strolling the streets and people-watching, admiring costumes and characters and beautiful, old buildings. Sharing kisses and food, holding hands, doing whatever sounded fun. Taking more photos that would end up framed on her walls. Time melted away and before they knew it, they were back on the plane and heading home to Atlanta. She cried again during the flight, but not because of the view. Thanked him continuously, planted countless kisses all over his cheeks and jawline, grinned until he was sure her cheeks had to be aching. He'd never been so proud of how happy he was able to make someone else feel.

Back to work and their usual routines at home, in Atlanta. Everything continued to feel calm, normal, peaceful. Their relationship continued flowing naturally, regularly breathing new life into him. For a while, he'd been waiting – waiting for the bad to inevitably happen. Waiting for something to ruin his happiness and take away this brief joy he'd found. But it never did. Everything felt just as easy as it ever had. Natural.

Weeks and months continued. More holidays spent together. More memories that trumped anything else he could _ever_ remember in his life. Beth Greene became synonymous with home. And Daryl didn't want to be _anywhere_ else.

She was _everywhere_. As was he. She'd invaded every aspect of his life, left her scent and her memory on every single thing he owned, on every inch of his skin. Just like he'd done with her – because he could tell. There were brief moments when she'd wake up from a dead sleep and reach out for him or softly cry out his name. Or when her hand would absent-mindedly reach out and search for his as they sat together on the couch, or walked side-by-side. Or when she would lose sight of him in a store, and he could see the look in her eyes as she frantically searched for him. No matter how often they saw each other, no matter how many times he watched that expression of relief and glee and _love_ that appeared on her face when her eyes landed on him, he never got tired of it. He always got the same intense burst of emotion in his chest, the same flip-flopping in his stomach. He was never _not_ happy to see her. Could barely stand being away from her.

Daryl's birthday came and went again – the marker of his 45th year being alive. Another perfect celebration with Beth. Another wish for 50 more birthdays just like it. Another reminder that he was getting older – _a lot_ older than her. He told her that he still felt 43, but that wasn't completely true. He found himself wandering into jewelry stores a couple times a week, _every_ week. Looking at rings. Just looking.

Another Valentine's Day spent together, somehow topping the previous year. Another stuffed animal sat in a place of honor on her desk and an even larger bouquet of roses. He wound up quitting the plumbing job when he was offered a position at a motorcycle repair shop, paying more money and demanding less hours of hard labor. It left him with more time to spend with Beth, especially once summer returned.

They spent more days riding, swimming, watching airplanes, fishing, hunting, taking long walks. Hours upon hours spent exploring each other's minds and bodies. More nights spent out at his cabin, sitting on the porch, drinking and talking. Sometimes listening to the rain. Sometimes listening to the wind chimes. Sometimes squirming around naked in his bed. _Always_ watching her face, observing every perfect feature. Committing every single part of her that he possibly could to memory.

They started talking about the future more often. And not just vacations they wanted to take and places they wanted to travel to, but also brief mentions of kids, families, homes, and settling down. Daryl had thought "settling down" was what they were already doing, but he found himself wanting _more_. Wanting all the things she talked about and then some. Wanting things he couldn't put into words, didn't know the terms to even attempt to describe them. Something deep inside him craved a life that he wasn't even sure was attainable.

But Beth made _everything_ feel possible.

 _It's been a while, I'm made of ribbon  
He's been inside, now I'm full of him  
To here knows when, our clearance cold  
I'm __**dressed for space**_ _, now can I go?_

He wasn't sure that he'd ever actually seen her _drunk_. No matter how many drinks they shared, how many slurred words and alcohol-flavored kisses they exchanged. She handled herself well, with grace, in all situations and on all occasions. Sure, she got goofy and silly, and there were certainly times when she could be abrasive, in her own way. But Daryl _loved_ it. He loved seeing every single side of her, and despite her immense maturity and wisdom, she still had rough parts that needed worked out. Nothing compared to him, but _no one_ is perfect.

He particularly loved it when she talked, and her spoken thoughts would drift off to something nonsensical and poetic at the same time. He felt like he was getting an inside look at her thought process, a peek at the way her mind worked. She was an enigma, a puzzle that he was constantly putting together or rearranging. Nearly two years into knowing her, inside and out, and he was still finding new surprises with every conversation.

Yet she always found a way to make him feel like she was the one studying _him_ – like he was amazing, somehow. Maybe he was just amazing to her. Maybe they were equally riveted by each other. He could never quite decide.

There was a night, a few weeks after Beth's 25th birthday, when they'd been sitting on the porch. Like usual. Sipping moonshine – something new they'd decided to try after growing tired of their usual wines, beers, and whiskeys. Listening to the rain pattering the roof above them, letting it gradually dampen their clothes, hair, and skin on the open porch. Listening to the wind chimes in the light breeze as the metallic tings rang out around them, melding into the echo of falling water. Distant thunder, raindrops on tree leaves and an old wooden roof.

He'd been telling her about a memory from his past, some stupid story involving Merle and some girl whose name he couldn't even remember. And when he'd finished, he found her smiling at him with unadulterated adoration in her blue eyes.

And she'd told him, "You're like all of my most favorite songs… _personified_."

And he'd understood _exactly_ what she meant. A dozen different tunes popped into his head simultaneously, and he'd thought of her favorite songs – the emo ballads, the pop-punk riffs. The verses about anguish, heartbreak, and pain. The bridges that led into hope, belonging, and redemption.

And he'd smiled back at her, and without hesitation, replied, "An' yer like those plants that grow over abandoned buildings, an' those ivy stalks that make dirty old brick beautiful again. Makes 'em worth lookin' at."

He wasn't sure where it had come from – somewhere deep inside him. The same place most of his thoughts and feelings about her came from. Wasn't even sure it had made sense, because he'd never been very good at putting his mental images into words. He was no poet, after all. But there were plenty of times when she made him _feel_ like one.

He didn't even feel the need to explain himself further because he knew she understood _exactly_ what he meant, too. How she was the breath of new life everywhere she went, how she brought beauty and light and newfound faith to the shadowy, forgotten places. How she had made him see the beauty in a world that had never been anything but ugly to him.

The recognition appeared on her face and her smile grew wider. She'd clutched the glass in her hand a little tighter and he'd seen the tears glistening in the corners of her eyes.

And her voice came out softer, weaker, choked with tears of elation. "I've always _loved_ it when you say things like that, darling."

At the time, he hadn't given it a second thought. It had sounded a little strange, but at the same time, all too familiar to question. Familiar in a way he couldn't quite pinpoint for the time being. He'd never actually _said_ something like that before. Not that he remembered. And she rarely called him 'darling.' It was usually 'baby' or 'babe' or 'sweetie,' or even 'dear.'

But the alcohol in his blood and the rain on his skin had fogged his mind, and he found it far too difficult to focus on anything except the loving gaze radiating from her eyes. The irresistible urge blooming in his chest to kiss her soft, pink lips.

 _Well he needs me  
Like a royal fox  
Like he sorry's me  
Like he smokes the rocks_

Weeks later, sitting on that same porch, relishing in the heat of one of the last nights of summer, she'd told him the truth. She'd opened herself wide and poured everything out, unprovoked and unashamed.

She'd laid it all out for him, given him the option to dismiss her as being insane, to brush her off without consequence. Even though he'd _never_ do such a thing.

She'd looked him straight in the eyes and spoken something aloud that he _knew_ had never been spoken aloud before. Not on this planet, anyway.

Beth Greene wasn't of this world. _Literally_. She was from somewhere much farther away. Much different. Much more evolved. Much more peaceful. And she'd travelled _billions_ of miles to reach Earth. To reach Daryl Dixon.

And he didn't doubt it for so much as a _second_. He didn't think she was crazy. In fact, that idea didn't even _briefly_ enter his mind. Because he _trusted_ her. She had no reason to lie. And she would _never_ lie to _him_.

He knew that much for certain. Knew it deep in his bones. Knew it just as well as he knew that breathing kept him alive.

She'd appeared almost fearful at first, like she thought he might leave. Or get angry. But after nearly two years of growing impossibly attached to each other, how _could_ he? And it only took a few seconds for her to come to that conclusion, to recognize it in the way he gazed back at her – to realize that he was just as deeply consumed as she was. That he wasn't going _anywhere_ if it meant going without her.

He couldn't have been angry if he tried. If there was one thing he'd learned during his time with her, it was empathy; to put himself in others' shoes once in a while. And when he put himself in _her_ shoes, he couldn't fathom telling someone that he was from another planet, either. Not after two years, maybe not ever. He didn't even feel lied to – because she hadn't _lied_. She'd simply left it out.

He hadn't asked for proof, even though she'd provided it voluntarily. Not that he needed any _more_ proof. Her explanation had been the final piece of the puzzle. With its addition, countless other questions were answered, and a thousand lightbulbs appeared above his head at once. All the little quirks and oddities made sense. Everything seemed to click into place.

Daryl suddenly understood. He understood _all_ of it.

Beth wasn't _strange_. She'd _never_ been strange. She wasn't just _different_ , either.

She was _other-worldly_.

And so was he.

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** Lyrics are from "Dressed For Space" by TR/ST. As always, a photo to go with this chapter is on AO3 and the comprehensive _Crossing Galaxies_ Pinterest board.  
Please let me know what you think! Especially if you're enjoying it :)


	4. more than gravity

_**chapter three – more than gravity**_

Before he'd ever met Beth, there was only one memory in Daryl's head that had ever struck him as abnormal. For a long time, he was sure it had been a dream, or a hallucination. The doctors had told him that he was _delusional from the smoke inhalation_. His dad and brother had told him to _shut the hell up and stop talking about the goddamn fire already_. But no matter how hard he tried, Daryl could never seem to forget it. The image was still so vivid in his mind, the voice so clear, as if it just happened yesterday.

He stopped bringing it up. Stopped thinking about it. Because whenever he did, a bizarre feeling would tingle through his whole body. And he would look around at the people surrounding him, the world he was in. And he would suddenly feel _strange_. Misplaced.

And he would think to himself, _I'm not like you._ _ **Any**_ _of you._

The fire that took his mama's life was her own doing. On a hot summer night in 1981, she fell asleep with another cigarette and, this time, the whole Dixon family paid the price. She burned up in that fire, hair curlers, nightgown, and all. Will Dixon had been out at the bar, like usual, and Merle was out running around, getting into trouble – also like usual.

Daryl was 8 years old and had been the only other person home. And when he woke at up at 3 in the morning to a burning in his throat and the smell of melting plastic and flesh, he'd been confused and terrified. He had no idea what to do, or who to run to.

He'd tried to run to his mama first. The smoke was so thick and the air was so hot that he wasn't sure how he'd ever made it out of his bedroom, let alone down the hall. He called out for her. Called out for Merle or Pa or _anyone_. But no one answered.

And when he got to her room, he couldn't even step inside. It was engulfed in flames, spewing putrid black smoke that reeked of burnt hair and flesh. It made him cough violently, tears streaming down his face.

Daryl had felt his heart slowing, and his breaths coming more ragged and strained. He struggled to remain standing, and quickly grew weak and breathless. He felt the fight leaving his body, and when he turned around, he could no longer tell where he was. His home had been swallowed up by flames and smoke and floating embers, leaving him consumed by darkness and impending death. He was disoriented, lost, light-headed and dizzy.

And then _she'd_ appeared.

He didn't know _how_ he knew that she was a _she_. There were no defining features – she was nothing more than a shadow amongst the billowing clouds of smoke and rapidly growing flames. When he concentrated _really_ hard, he thought she might've been wearing some kind of cloak or poncho. She was indistinguishable as anything more than a human-like shape, slightly taller than him but not much larger.

Yet, as soon as he saw her, he felt calmer.

Despite the noise surrounding them, and his own blood rushing in his ears, Daryl could hear her speaking, clear as day, words filling his ears and ringing through his head. Her voice was soft, sweet, comforting. Anguished and full of grief, yet still confident and matter-of-factly.

"Oh, my darling – you are meant for so much _more_."

He had no idea what she meant, or who she was, or where she'd come from. But when she reached out and offered her pale, delicate hand through the dark smoke, he took it. Grasped it tightly. And then she'd led him out of the house.

He still couldn't remember how they'd gotten out. How they'd gotten through the piles of debris or the quickly collapsing doublewide trailer. All he knew was that he'd blinked and, suddenly, he was on the front lawn. Sitting with firefighters and paramedics, watching the charred shell of his home burn to the ground. Unable to explain how he'd escaped the flames unharmed, no matter how many times they asked. Small face covered in soot and tears, searching the road for signs of his dad or his brother.

Everything in Daryl's life had gone gradually downhill since that night. After his mama was gone, his pa tried to beat every last ounce of hope from Daryl's small body. Yet, over the years, something inside him continued surviving, striving, reaching for something he couldn't see. Defying everything he'd been born into, denying the vices that had consumed his father and brother, forging his own lonesome path. Barely escaping the deep pit of depression that had swallowed Merle and threatened to swallow him the same.

And no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that the whole memory was bullshit, and that he had never been meant for _anything_ … he couldn't deny that it was real. It had _happened_. Someone had told him – a long time ago, when it still mattered – that he was meant for _more_.

And he'd believed them.

And for over thirty years, he tried his hardest _not_ to believe it. Searched for every possible way to disprove himself, to disprove that extraordinary shadow lady in the fire. To let the memory fade, just like the memory of his mama's face had eventually faded. To accept the reality that he was nobody, _nothing_ – always had been, always would be. He was born that way and he would die that way.

Then he met Beth. And finally, it all made _sense_.

* * *

 _Hey mom, there's something in the backroom  
Hope it's not that creature from above  
You used to read me stories,  
As if my dreams were boring  
We all know conspiracies are dumb_

It wasn't so strange when Daryl started _really_ thinking about it. All the things about Beth that had seemed so mysterious, so unique; all those little oddities fit the narrative more than perfectly. As did the deep, resounding connection he felt when she was around, and the inexplicable attraction that had reeled him in close to her – like she had her own gravitational pull that tugged directly at his soul. Everything fell into place. It felt like the thin veil had finally been lifted from his eyes after a lifetime of obscured vision.

It had started with a conversation that somehow drifted to observations – about human nature, about the way the human mind worked and how all the eccentricities and quirks seemed to be a common thread that connected all of mankind. About all the pain and grief that so many people experienced, and the bewildering resilience – or fragility – of their minds and souls. Daryl hadn't thought it was weird that Beth talked like she wasn't human. She did it often. He'd never put much thought into it. She was a little odd that way, and he liked it. She always had something new to tell him, always spoke unpredictably and kept him on his toes. But then she'd let her thin disguise finally slip away fully before his eyes, and she'd poured her soul out while they sat on the porch of his cabin and sipped moonshine in the evening heat of late summer. She'd revealed a deep veracity that he'd always sensed, yet never provoked.

And as her voice filled his ears and her words penetrated his skin, he found himself acknowledging the inexpressible connection that had been present between them since the moment they met. As well as the quiet inner thoughts he'd always dismissed – like Beth's weird fascination with strangers, with the workings of the mind, with popular culture and music and history and romance and the vast spectrum of emotions that she experienced or witnessed every day. All the miscellaneous things that either _bored_ the hell out of Daryl or absolutely _scared_ the hell out of him. Her otherworldly ability to find beauty and hope in every little dark corner of the world, and to share it with him. Her fascination with staring up at the stars, like she could hear them talking to her on particularly quiet nights.

When it came down to it, Beth didn't have stories to tell – she had _harrowing tales_. Ancient lore and never-ending explanations, mind-boggling realizations and undeniably logical conclusions. She had an extensive answer for every single question Daryl could possibly think of. She possessed, and explained, the kinds of elucidations he thought might get them _killed_ if the wrong people overheard. The kinds of revelations that could start and end a hundred wars all at once.

And he was the only one on Earth who knew the _whole_ truth. The only one besides her, of course.

When she'd begun to explain, when she'd stared at him and silently begged for an understanding that he was already prepared to give her, and he'd seen her back straighten and her eyes glint, Daryl had _known_. He'd felt something big about to happen. He could sense something inevitable that was going to change _everything_. He just didn't know _how_ it would change everything.

The next thing he knew, she was insisting on proving it to him. He assured her that he believed her, that he would never think of her as insane or delusional. But she _insisted_.

And he'd watched as she closed her eyes. Her chest puffed out as she inhaled deeply and held it in her lungs. He watched her muscles tense, and then suddenly relax. Her eyes popped open.

But they weren't _her_ eyes. They weren't the swirling, glittering pools of blue and green that Daryl had spent the last two years staring into. The milky whiteness was gone, as were the pupils and any hint of color. They were completely obsidian black. Deep, dark pools of ink, shining and reflecting in the moonlight. Boring into him with something that sent a deep chill through his bones. Like their jet black depths contained entire celestial bodies within themselves.

And then she'd shuddered, heavily. Her shoulders shook and she released the breath she'd been holding, and her eyes slammed shut. She let out a small pained whimper and turned her head away.

He'd set his glass down and decided that he was done drinking for the night. Maybe forever. He reached out to her, but she winced away. Then she apologized profusely, and when she opened her eyes and looked at him, they were normal again. Full of tears and sorrow, but normal.

The grief on her face had startled him. He didn't know what she saw when her eyes had gone black, but he could sense that it wasn't good. It caused her pain. And he didn't know what it meant, but he had a feeling it had something to do with all the times he'd found her crying, and all the times she'd burst into tears for inexplicable reasons. But he didn't want to ask. He had so many other questions that he needed answers to first.

For the next few hours, he'd stared intently into her eyes, listening to her every word, studying her expressions as she told him things that he could barely comprehend. The moonlight illuminated their exchange, the occasional breeze drying the tears on Beth's cheeks.

He didn't reel back in shock when she told him about travelling billions of miles, crossing countless galaxies to reach Earth. Nor did he gasp in surprise when she admitted that she was _not_ 25 – that she was, in fact, much, much older. But her planet measured time differently, she explained, and though she looked young, by Earth's standards, she was technically _hundreds_ of years old.

No, that wasn't shocking; that made _sense_ to Daryl.

He wasn't so much surprised as he was _enraptured_ by her every word as she told him about her people, her planet, her family. About the ancient bloodline that she came from, a species that was rooted in humankind and Earth. She weaved a tale so grand that he thought it surely had to be the plot of some movie he'd never seen, or an ancient tale from some history book he'd never read. But it wasn't – it was _true_ , it was the history that would never be documented on his planet.

She explained that her people, her ancestors, had lived on Earth thousands of years ago – the Mayan civilization, something that Daryl barely remembered learning about in school. And when he'd told her that didn't make sense, that the Mayans had died out and that the rest had integrated into the current population, she laughed and shook her head.

She told him that they'd _left_. Somehow, because of something that even Beth couldn't explain, her ancestors had _evolved_. They'd made giant leaps, mind, body, and soul, that the rest of Earth's population would _never_ be capable of. They'd developed other-worldly abilities, talents, and knowledge. They outgrew the constraints of Earth and mankind altogether.

Maybe it was because they knew the truth about religion, she suggested. About the gods that were being worshipped and the tales that were being told around the world, about the falsehoods and needless wars that were being started all in the names of man-made fairytales. The atrocities being committed in the name of a non-existent god, in the name of a faith in something that her ancestors knew for a _fact_ to be _wrong_. Or maybe the Mayans had simply been _created_ that way – made to outreach anything that the rest of humankind could ever imagine.

No one would ever be able to explain it.

It was, Beth said, just one of those things – like the beginning of the universe itself. "The Big Bang" and "The Creation" and what-have-you. Even her people, with their extremely advanced technology and knowledge and spirituality, couldn't explain how or why. Only _when_.

And after hundreds upon hundreds of years spent evolving at an extraterrestrial pace, developing technology, making plans, and predicting future events, her ancestors had gathered up their remaining numbers – the ones who hadn't been casualties of warfare or barbaric rituals – and all of their developed technology and fled the planet. They left behind nothing of importance, no trace of where they were going or how they would get there, no evidence of their evolution, of their highly advanced technology or skills. Only the millions of structures they'd built, their old homes, their old shrines to old gods, abandoned graves and crypts, and miles upon miles of star charts, hieroglyphic language, calendars, scripture… all the evidence of a mysterious, ancient civilization for the rest of humankind to discover and study for centuries to come.

Then they'd travelled billions of miles – _lightyears_ – through space, settled on a planet far, far away, and prospered. _Thrived_.

They'd built a civilization, a new home, that Earth and its flawed humans could _never_ match up to. Their numbers multiplied without the hindrance of war, famine, greed, or disease, and their population had grown from the few hundred thousand that left Earth to nearly five _billion_ beings. Their life spans were exceptionally longer, Beth attempted to explain, and they'd evolved to a point where each person was only able to reproduce once every 50 to 100 years, a natural adaptation to prevent overpopulation – even though their planet was still large. More than large enough to accommodate and provide for at least twice that amount of citizens.

 _That_ , Beth had explained, was where she was _really_ from. That was where her family and friends still resided, waiting for her to return. That was where the earliest members of mankind had disappeared to, where they'd continued to evolve and grow, continued to thrive and learn and develop technology and medicine that brought them endless peace and prosperity. There were no wars, no imbalances of power, no oppression, no hatred or greed or cold-hearted deceit. There was only love, equality, unity, and prosperity.

All of these things didn't prevent the natural order of life, though – she was sure to emphasize that point, reassuring Daryl that there was _no_ place in the universe completely devoid of grief or suffering. However, she was also sure to emphasize that on her planet, _every_ living being was cherished. That there was a far deeper understanding of the complexities of life and death and everything in-between. And that whenever there was pain, there was _always_ healing. And with death there was _always_ new life. There would _always_ be evil – because it was _everywhere_ , she admitted, one of the inevitable consistencies in the universe, just like birth and death. But the evil wasn't unbridled, it didn't run rampant in the streets, nor did it sit upon a throne or slaughter its way through entire civilizations like on Earth. On her planet, love _always_ took precedence over hatred or rage. Her people had evolved in countless ways, endless aspects that were impossible to explain in their entirety.

It wasn't perfect by any means, she reiterated, but it was the closest they might ever get. And it was no utopia, she admitted, but it was certainly the definition of such in the minds of Earth-bound humans.

None of this information stunned him. It explained too much to shock him, it was somehow the most logical conclusion as to why and how Beth was so many fucking _miles_ beyond any other person he'd ever met. Why she was able to see beauty so easily in absolutely anything, and share it with him. Why she seemed to be constantly feeling something abysmal and more intense than he could ever imagine.

No, it didn't boggle his mind. And it didn't make him want to run screaming for the hills, either. It actually _comforted_ him. It answered so many questions that he hadn't even realized he'd had.

It just made _sense_.

 _What if people knew that these were real?  
I'd leave my closet door open all night  
I know the CIA would say,  
What you hear is all hearsay  
I wish someone would tell me what was right_

The thing that surprised him was finding out that she'd been within his reach for the last fifteen years. When she explained that her people still learned about the history of humankind in school, the ancient origins of her species, and that they regularly studied humans and the complexities of human nature and civilization. That they used to travel to Earth almost regularly, visiting the humans, or "touring," or simply checking in on the state of humanity. And then when she explained that things had _changed_ in the last thirty years, that some of the humans had developed higher technology – the kind of technology that was capable of detecting an alien's presence in the atmosphere, capable of threatening the very _existence_ of someone like her. That humans were no longer _welcoming_ of extraterrestrial visitors, and that their fear had evolved into a dangerous intolerance over the last century, an insatiable need for knowledge and power that they had no business ever possessing.

The most shocking was finding out that Beth had come to Earth in 2001, that she'd blended in, hid out, laid low. That she'd bided her time until Daryl was "ready" to meet her. That she'd refused to leave until she was able to speak to him, even if that meant spending over fifteen years amongst the masses of flawed, modern-day humans.

This information made his head spin. It made his breath hitch in his throat, made his stomach turn, made his heart rabbit in his chest. Not because she'd fibbed about growing up in Georgia, about moving away and moving back, about any of that other nonsense backstory filler. He didn't care about _any_ of that.

He cared that she'd been so _close_ and he'd had no idea.

He immediately began wracking his brain, searching for any hints of her presence in his past memories. But then she assured him that she hadn't been watching him or stalking him, that she'd kept her distance and let his life play out accordingly, without interference. That she'd made the most of her time alone on this planet, and that she'd actually fallen in love with humans and the world they'd built. That she'd grown quite fond of her mediocre human life while waiting for the opportunity to share it with _him_. That she'd always been fascinated and enthralled by humans and their cultures, and that she'd learned more than she could've ever imagined while hanging out on Earth.

His next question wasn't how or when or where, but _why_.

"Why'd you wait so long?"

He hadn't meant for it to sound accusatory. But goddammit, he felt _cheated_. Cheated out of more time with her, out of a more fulfilling life. He'd wasted so many years before she came along.

And Beth smiled. He saw the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, but she kept smiling. And she took another sip of her drink, and then she replied softly, "You weren't _ready_ , my love."

He was confused. He furrowed his brow, narrowed his eyes, studied her expression. He tried to read her, tried to use everything he'd learned over the last two years to figure out what she was thinking. But he knew better than that by now.

" _Ready_? Wha'd'you mean, ready?"

She smirked and leaned her head back, resting it against the wood railing behind her, and gazed at him knowingly. "You think, if we'd met when you were twenty-eight, runnin' around with Merle, that we would've ended up together?"

Daryl frowned and his eyes drifted away from hers momentarily while he thought about it, almost ashamed. He knew she was right.

"Or when you were _thirty_ -eight, doin' the same thing?" She asked. "Or when you were forty? Forty-one, forty-two? You think you would've allowed yourself t'be happy? With somebody like me?"

He blinked and swallowed back a small knot that threatened to form in his throat. Then he shook his head and met her knowing gaze again. He could admit when she was right, or when she was making a very valid point.

She didn't appear smug, though, nor did she say it condescendingly. She never did. She just _knew_ – she knew that it was a realization he wouldn't have accepted unless she'd pointed it out for him.

Because she was _right_. Daryl never would've been capable of growing with Beth like he did if Merle had still been around. He never would've let another person get that close, let alone a woman like her. If she hadn't slipped into his life and under his skin at the one time when he felt most vulnerable and most lost… Hell, he probably never would've even _spoken_ to her.

"Guess yer right," he mumbled, slightly ashamed.

He couldn't help but wonder _why_ , though. And _what if_. Why would she wait so many years for somebody like him? And what if he'd died before she came along? What if something had happened to her and _she_ somehow died? What if something had stopped them from ever meeting? Shit, there'd been so many times between 28 and 43 where he very easily _could've_ died. And then what? She would've wasted all that time on a shitty planet for no reason?

Maybe she could read it on his face, able to tell what he was thinking after spending so much time together. Or maybe she really _could_ read his mind. He wasn't sure. But she addressed his unvoiced worries with reassurance.

Her eyes softened and she said, "You're a _survivor_ , Daryl. I was never worried about not havin' enough time, 'cause I knew you'd be around. If anything ever happened, you'd be the last man standing… I _still_ believe that."

He thought back to their camping trips, hunting and fishing and how she'd constantly marveled at his natural talents and instincts. And briefly, he thought about the years he spent cowering under the fist and boot of his father, and then the decades spent trailing behind his hatred-fueled brother. About the nights on end he spent out in the woods, surviving off the land, just for the sake of not having to return home.

He grunted and shrugged. "Wasn't always the case."

He didn't need to elaborate because he could see the recognition on her face. She always understood exactly what he meant. Always remembered all the little details he'd ever told her, about his past or otherwise. Always had a knack for hearing all the unspoken words. He still wasn't sure if she could read his mind, because he wasn't sure she _needed_ to.

She blinked and parted her lips like she was about to say something, then changed her mind and closed them again. The light in her eyes flickered and Daryl found himself unable to look away. He waited for her to speak, but after a long moment, she didn't.

So he spoke instead. He asked the one question that was bothering him more than any other: "But why? Why would you wanna wait fer _me_? You didn't come all this way jus' fer _my_ sorry ass."

She laughed.

It startled him at first, made him lean back slightly and narrow his eyes, giving her a bemused look. But she was grinning and her laughter was echoing off the porch around them, off the trees. It filled his ears and his head and gave him a lightness inside, almost like floating. Reminding him that whatever she told him, or was about to tell him, was changing absolutely _nothing_ between them. Not really.

Her eyes sparkled and she continued grinning wide, white teeth shown behind pink lips. "No, baby, I didn't come all this way _just_ fer you," she said, gazing at him with affection and endearment. "Not _this_ time, anyway."

Daryl's jaw dropped open and he stared back into her eyes with astonishment. There was a feeling brewing to life in his stomach, something he couldn't describe but that had occurred several times during the last two years with Beth. Something like hope mixed with fear, anticipation, and excitement.

And then a new feeling joined. A feeling of enlightenment – like a question he'd been silently asking for his entire life had just been answered when he least expected it.

An image suddenly popped into his head that he hadn't thought about in years. Decades, maybe. A memory that he'd tried so hard to push out, to lock up and forget. A memory that had refused to fade, no matter how much he willed it to leave his mind.

And then his next words were tumbling from his parted lips on a single breath, barely loud enough for her to hear from where she sat a few feet away.

" _The fire_."

Her grin disappeared completely and a shadow flickered across her face, extinguishing the sparkle in her eyes. She pressed her lips tightly together and gazed back at him for a long moment. So long, it felt like an eternity.

Then she nodded, and as soon as he saw the fresh tears pooling, he _knew_.

It was her.

 _She_ had been the one in the flames. _Beth_ had been the woman who'd offered her hand to terrified, breathless, little 8-year-old Daryl. She'd been the one who told him that he was meant for _more_.

"You saved my life," he said. He didn't know where the words came from, just that he couldn't _not_ say them. He stared intently into her eyes, watched the tears slide down her cheeks as the grief began to overwhelm her.

Her bottom lip trembled and he could see her knuckles turning white from gripping the glass in her hand so tightly. But she didn't look away from him, didn't break their deep eye contact. Her voice was choked with tears and heavy with apologies, "I couldn't save your mama. I'm so sorry, Daryl – I _wanted_ ta save her, I tried – "

Without hesitation, he leaned forward and reached out to grab her free hand. He held it tightly between them, still locked in her gaze, and stopped the needless apologies. "You saved my _life_ , Beth... I shoulda _died_ in that fire, right alongside my ma."

She shook her head and glanced away briefly, blinking back a fresh wave of tears and shuddering with a weak sob. She squeezed his hand. Then she looked at him and whispered, "I couldn't let that happen. You were meant for more – _so much more_. I couldn't stand by and let you die as a child. I couldn't wait for you _again_."

He furrowed his brow and his heart skipped in his chest. He squeezed her hand tighter, staring deep into her eyes, searching for answers that he knew he would only find by voicing his questions.

But the only question he could manage to ask was, " _Again_ …?"

Her trembling lip stilled and she took in a deep breath, blinking away more tears. She squeezed his hand again, still staring back intently. Then she spoke softly and slowly, almost tentative. "You're not from here, either. Not _really_."

 _Up all night long  
And there's something very wrong  
And I know it must be late  
Been gone since yesterday  
I'm not like you guys  
I'm not like you_

Daryl could never explain what happened inside his head at that moment, not even if he tried. But something clicked together. A million little puzzle pieces finally found their places, and something in the way Beth was looking at him had told him everything he needed to know.

He narrowed his eyes and swallowed hard, flicking out his tongue to run it over his bottom lip. His mouth was suddenly full of cotton. But he found his voice, though it came out weak. "Me an' you meetin'… that wasn't luck, was it?"

It sounded stupid once it was out, settling in the air between them. It wasn't what he'd _really_ meant to say. But he could tell that she knew what he meant. _Obviously_ she'd come to Earth for him, _obviously_ they hadn't met just by chance. _Obviously_ she'd known him before. Somehow, someway. And he understood that, he was working on processing it. What he didn't understand was _how_ – how she knew him, how she'd known where to find him or _when_ to find him.

How she'd known to pull him from that fire so many years ago.

"Of course not," she whispered. Her hand loosened in his, and he watched her glance up towards the stars, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Like the universe was whispering secrets that only she could hear. And it probably was, he realized. Then she met his gaze again.

She stared back intently, hesitating for a long few moments before continuing. And then she enunciated her words carefully, lips wrapping delicately around each syllable – just like when she'd told him that she crossed literal galaxies to find him. "We were _meant_ for each other, Daryl. In every lifetime, on every planet. You and I are one of the _only_ constancies in this universe."

He blinked, licked his lips again, tried to feel her hand in his. But his whole body had gone numb. He was struggling to process her words. His mouth worked on its own accord as he attempted to ask a question, but his voice trailed off. "What…?"

And then her mouth pulled into a half-smile and she leaned forward, slightly closer to him, glass still grasped in her other hand. Her eyes were bright blue, swirling with passion. Her voice was so confident, so _certain_. She spoke with a knowledge that he could barely comprehend. "This life isn't our _only_ life. We've lived several – so many that you can't even _remember_ them. _I_ can only remember parts. But the one thing I _always_ remember is _us_ – the feeling when we're together. Our connection… And _you_." Her half-smile widened and she beamed. "I _recognized_ you. I could feel you out here _somewhere_ ; I could almost _hear_ your soul calling out to mine. I searched for you, I sensed you, and I've waited for you time and time again... You don't _belong_ here, Daryl. Not with these people. You were meant for somewhere else entirely – you just got a little _lost_ this time around."

His mouth was open, he was staring at her with a bewildered expression, a billion questions in his head. And she stared back, still smiling, like she was waiting for it all to click. Like she was waiting for him to remember something that had never happened, that he would never be _capable_ of remembering.

Yet, when he thought about it, _really_ thought about it… it felt familiar. Something actually _was_ clicking. There was a part deep inside him that he'd never been able to pinpoint – a part that constantly cried out for something he couldn't identify. In a language he didn't even recognize.

And she was _answering_ it. She was hearing its call and responding. And the language was their own.

She seemed to answer his questions without having to hear them. "All these religions on your planet, all these beliefs and assumptions and inconsistencies… they're _wrong_. Our souls are _immortal_. They aren't constrained by space or time or distance. When we die, we don't go to some magical utopia in the sky, or some burning netherworld beneath our feet… We leave. We go somewhere else. We do it over, for better or worse. We just _live_ again. Our souls are ageless and _nomadic_ , and despite the giant pool we all end up swimming inside – despite all the odds that say we _shouldn't_ – a lot of us drift _back_ to each other."

She paused, searching for the right words, struggling to explain all the knowledge she possessed, yet somehow speaking clearer than ever. "There are so many planets and galaxies and-and entire _worlds_ … It's hard to explain, but there are certain souls that are _magnetized_ to each other – destined to _always_ end up together, no matter the circumstances or distance or _whatever_. Like it's _fate_. And our people, on my planet, we're all connected. Me an' you – _we're connected_ , deeper than either of us could ever _fathom_ … You're a Mayan, it's still in your blood, even now. Yer one of us, through an' through. You should've been sent back to me, back to _us_."

She was blinking back tears, her voice briefly choking with emotion, growing weaker. "But you weren't. Not too long ago, you were sent _here_. Far away from me. And I'll never be able to explain why. _None_ of us can. All I know is that I felt you. I _knew_ where you were. And I had ta come find you… I had ta _be_ with you again."

Daryl's heart was thumping so hard in his chest that he was sure Beth could see it through the thin fabric of his shirt. His mouth was bone-dry, and his eyes were locked on hers. He couldn't form words, let alone find his voice to make an attempt at articulating a sentence. At this point, his facial expressions seemed to be enough of a response for her. She was watching him as she spoke, gauging his reaction. Her hand squeezed his, but he barely felt it. Her voice was penetrating his skin, sending jolts of electricity down his spine, causing goosebumps to form up and down his legs.

All of these realizations, these sudden clicks of understanding, were falling down heavy upon him. His head was nearly spinning. Yet he knew, undeniably, that it was true. It was all _true_. And that was the heaviest realization of all.

"I _know_ you've felt like you don't belong. I _know_ you've looked up at the stars and _begged_ for answers that were never gonna come," she said, voice softening to nearly a whisper. Her eyes were watery with pooling tears, turning blue to sapphire.

He felt more goosebumps, more tingles up his spine. It was like she could read his mind. He was almost certain she _could_ at this point. Like she could see everything he'd ever seen, feel everything he'd ever felt.

"It's not just _you_ , Daryl. It's not yer imagination. Your dad and brother were wrong – you're _not_ like them. You never _were_ ," she said, her voice briefly cracking with sentiment as she continued staring deeply into his eyes. "You're not just _human_ – even though you were put here, in this form, you'll _never_ be an average human. Your soul is too extraordinary to be restrained. You came from _us_ – you _belong_ with us. Earth is no place for somebody like _you_."

There were a million things he wanted to say, wanted to ask. But the only words that came out were a confused and mumbled, "That don't make no sense."

Beth smirked. Her nostrils flared as she let out a _hmph_ of amusement. Like she knew something he didn't. Because she did. She always had.

And her voice came out matter-of-factly, "I know. An' it never _will_. Not here, anyway. Not in this world. Maybe not even in this lifetime – not _completely_ , anyway." Her smirk faltered and faded momentarily. "This planet an' its… _evil_ – the toxic parts of humanity – they've scarred you. There are lost souls that have tried ta drain you fer as long as you've _been_ here. More than just physically… But yer _not_ stunted, yer still capable of so many _incredible_ things. Not even _this_ world could break you. You're not _lost_. But, baby, I _found_ you."

Daryl furrowed his brow and continued staring at her, studying her. More tingles, more goosebumps. He hesitated, his thumb grazing over her knuckles as he grasped her hand, struggled to feel it. Then he asked, "You remember me – so why can't I remember you? Before the fire? Why couldn't I remember where I was s'posed ta be?"

She smirked again, taking a long sip from her glass before responding with raised eyebrows. "Because, darling, that's not how it works. Especially here. You've been _human_ too long – you can't access all those memories. Even I can't see _all_ of them – just some. The ones that matter."

She paused and smiled, blinking back a few tears. Happy tears. Then she added softly, "And it's always _you_ … you're _always_ the one that matters."

He swallowed, chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip and watching her intently. "What kinda memories?"

 _I am still a skeptic, yes you know me  
Been best friends and will be till we die  
I got an injection of fear  
From the abduction (of blood)  
My best friend thinks I'm just telling lies, alright_

Her smile widened into a grin and her eyes drifted towards the sky again. Like she was reminiscing on a fond memory, or a long-forgotten story that she'd misplaced until now.

Her voice was dreamy and wistful, pink lips curling with every word, "There were so _many_ lives we lived on my planet… but we've been here a few times. We've been stuck on Earth more than once… A while back. For short periods. We always found our way to each other. Always fell in love. We've _always_ been inseparable. We've lived a thousand lives, made a million memories… we've spent _lifetimes_ together. Sometimes tragic, sometimes peaceful. But each time more _passionate_ than the last."

The glow of the moonlight caught her golden hair in just the right way to send a sheen down its length, and her blue eyes sparkled with renewed life. She continued gazing skyward, at the blinking stars that lay against the vast blackness of the night sky, her smile wavering and faltering briefly.

"Hades and Persephone. Mark Antony and Cleopatra. Prince Albert and Queen Victoria." Then her eyes flicked back down and met his. Her mouth curved into a knowing smile once more, lashes briefly fluttering over an oceanic gaze. "Me an' you, baby. Over an' over an' over, since nearly the beginning of time. And here we are, doing it all over again. But _better_. Every _time_ gets better. We get _more_ time – we get more _happiness_. When I felt you out here, found you on this sad little planet, all alone… how could I _not_ step in? How could I have possibly stayed _away_? How could I wait another _lifetime_ to meet you again? We're _meant_ for each other… You and me."

A large, painful knot had formed in Daryl's throat. But he talked past it, barely able to find the strength or self-confidence to form a full sentence. Barely able to form a comprehensive thought. "Hades an' Persephone weren't real people…"

Stupid, he knew. Such a _stupid_ thing to point out. Of all the things she'd said, he'd grasped onto the least important and argued about it. He wanted to kick himself. He couldn't figure out why he'd responded in that way. It was almost instinctual – his natural penchant for pessimism. His desire to disenfranchise her claims, to somehow lessen the intensity of her words.

Even though he couldn't. Because he _knew_. He knew she was telling him the truth, and uncovering answers that he'd been subconsciously seeking for his entire life. He knew she wouldn't lie, wouldn't make up nonsensical stories for _any_ reason. But at this point, with so many heavy realities falling upon his head at once, he was desperate to lighten the load with his natural skepticism. Even though every single part of him was telling him to _forget_ the skepticism – to accept her honesty and open himself up to what he instinctually knew was reality.

Beth wasn't fazed by his comment. Her smile didn't falter. In fact, it grew a little wider. The confidence beamed brighter on her face, as did the perceptive expression in her eyes.

And her voice poured from her lips in a sweet, smooth wave of reassurance, "Weren't they, though? Where d'you think all these people in yer planet's stories _come_ from? The bibles and the scriptures and the ancient texts? You think it's all _completely_ fabricated? Just because humans choose to embellish it and call it _mythology_ or _fairytales_ or _religion_ doesn't mean it was _all_ made up – even _Jesus_ was a real person… Spend centuries worshipping a human and eventually, they become something _more_ than human. Whether they actually were or not. You might've been told otherwise, but I can promise you… they were _real_. They were usually human. They lived. They loved. They died. They were just as real as you an' me have _ever_ been. Just as real as we are right now, sitting on this porch, talking about space travel and reincarnation."

And it all came together at once in his mind. The skepticism and pessimism vanished, replaced with nothing but unfaltering belief. Suddenly, all the little things that had never made sense were conjoining to form a logical conclusion. An answer that humankind had been relentlessly searching for, long before Daryl had ever been conscious. An answer he wasn't sure he'd ever wanted, let alone asked for. But that he _needed_ nonetheless. In a way he couldn't describe, he _knew_ that he'd needed to understand.

He couldn't explain it, nor could he locate the root of his sudden belief. It was something about the way Beth spoke, about the look on her face and the steady confidence in her voice. There was something about her vague yet extensive explanations that left him with every bit of evidence he could ever need. Something about her rarely spoken pet names that felt natural in his ears when it was coming from her, like her timeless soul was speaking directly to his.

There was something in the brief mentions of long-forgotten, non-existent memories that sparked a flame deep in his soul. People he'd only read about briefly, could barely recall ever hearing about. Yet they still seemed so familiar, so _relatable_. Like he could barely feel them – like he could reach his hand out and graze his fingertips along the edges of stories as old as time itself, as if he'd once been a part of them.

And the only thing it assured him of was his misplacement.

He felt the hurt in every fiber of his body. He felt the lack of a life he'd never known resonating throughout his entire being. Weeping, sobbing for a loss he could not consciously locate.

 _Jesus,_ _she's right,_ he thought. _I'm not like them._ _ **Any**_ _of them._

He couldn't explain the deep connection he felt when she spoke those names. When she reiterated those tales like they were common knowledge, explained the mind-boggling reality of things as if it were simple logic. He was unable to pinpoint the exact feeling that had consumed him in that moment. All he knew was that she was, in fact, telling the truth – that she was explaining something to him that was finally filling in all the blanks of his menial life. She'd just handed him the last pieces of a never-ending puzzle that he'd given up completing several years ago.

Daryl's heart skipped when he realized that he _did_ belong somewhere – that the feeling he'd suddenly encountered when he first sensed Beth's presence _wasn't_ all in his head, it _wasn't_ imaginary. Their connection wasn't some sick form of infatuation. The love he felt for her wasn't unrequited in the slightest, and the inexplicable magnetism between them wasn't so inexplicable after all. The way they'd flowed into each other and grown together and become inseparably interlocked had indeed been just as natural as it had felt.

And the most relieving realization: it wasn't _temporary_.

He hadn't been imagining it. Whatever he and Beth had was _real_. It was so fucking real that it shattered the confines of time and space altogether.

An unrealistic expectation by theory, he knew. But shit, it felt good to know that he wasn't insane, and that he had not actually fallen way too hard for a girl that was entirely out of his league. No, she felt it, too. So much so that she seemed to feel it in an even more tangible form than he could _ever_ conceive. And his deepest fear of losing her was slowly drifting away, replaced with an unfounded assurance that they were _meant_ to find each other, _meant_ to spend eternity together.

Was this it? Were his birthday wishes actually being granted?

It made sense now. Why the last two years with her had somehow felt like an eternity in itself. Why she'd known exactly the way to get under his skin, why she'd wanted to include him in her otherwise exclusive life. How she'd made him feel so absolutely _wanted_. How she'd made every fear and doubt he'd ever had melt away, how they'd created their own private bubble of happiness and hope amongst a world full of pain and disappointment and heartbreak. How he'd fallen so completely, purely, inescapably in _love_ with her when he'd been convinced he was incapable of such a thing. So suddenly and without warning. So effortlessly. So much more intensely than anything he'd _ever_ experienced in his short time on Earth.

Or at least the time he could _remember_.

 _Dark and scary, ordinary  
Explanation, information  
Nice to know ya, paranoia  
Where's my mother, biofather?_

His throat was too dry to allow words for the time being, so he looked down at their hands clasped together. Then he scooted closer to her on the porch, closing most of the distance between them, and turned her hand over in his, exposed her left wrist where the small tattoo was inked into her skin. And he grasped her hand tighter, pressed his wrist against hers, gazed down meaningfully at the picture their matching tattoos made when they were placed side-by-side.

A rocketship aiming for a planet. So close, yet so far away at the same time. Impossibly separated; two small, wandering souls that were profoundly and inescapably connected, but placed within two separate beings, in a vast universe full of other drifting souls.

Like a spacecraft hopelessly aimed for a planet across endless galaxies and through inconceivable boundaries.

When he met her gaze, she was smiling wistfully at him. Her blue eyes were filled with overwhelming adoration and passion – and more tears of joy. And without words, they shared the same thought: the exchanged understanding of why she'd chosen their tattoos. The perplexing logic behind her subliminal message, branded into their skin over a year before she revealed the weight of reality before him.

A few moments later, he found his voice again, and asked quietly, "What's this mean? Did ya jus' wanna make sure I was okay? An' then you gotta leave? Or…"

Her smile faltered and she blinked, briefly creasing her brow. He saw her swallow hard before replying, almost defiantly, "I'm not _leaving_ you, Daryl. I could never. I wanna take you with me… if _you_ want."

Daryl's breath hitched in his throat and he felt Beth squeeze his hand in reassurance. He blinked, swallowing back tears that wanted to pool in his eyes. It was almost like a delayed reaction – like it was taking him several moments to process everything she'd told him, and as he began working his way through each part, the weight in his gut grew heavier and more solid.

There were traces of relief embedded in the realization, in the reality of her words and the unimaginable offer she was placing before him. But there was also _fear_. That terrified feeling that had begun to creep up on him since the moment he met Beth Greene. A fear that he'd never experienced before and could never put into words. Like something deep and primal inside him could sense that she was the catalyst for something entirely new and unexplored in his life. The fear had morphed, evolved, changed its form with each month and each milestone in their relationship. But no matter what, it always remained. And now it was substantial in his chest, in the back of his head.

He didn't know how to react. What to say in response. Of course, his first instinct was to say _yes_. That was a given. But when he tried, his mouth wouldn't open. The hand that wasn't clasped tightly in Beth's moved to his face, and he chewed on the tip of his thumb thoughtfully, nervously. A habit he'd never been able to shake and came almost as naturally as breathing, or fiddling with the graying hairs on his chin.

Beth's bracelets clinked lightly as she raised the glass to her lips and took a long sip, the metallic ting echoing lightly against the steady tinkle of the wind chimes that hung above them. He stared intently into her eyes, absorbing every detail of her patient and attentive expression. She seemed to understand that he was still processing everything, that he needed time to put everything together in his head and make sense of it all before he could find the confidence to respond with any kind of certainty.

Even though he already knew what his answer would be. And he could tell that she did, too. She didn't look worried or fearful anymore. Because they both knew there _was_ no other answer.

He felt everything she said so deeply within him that there was no use trying to deny it. He'd sensed the missed connection nearly as long as he'd been alive, and now was his chance to _fix it_. His chance to finally figure out where he actually belonged, to find out if he had an actual purpose.

Not that he wasn't perfectly fine with spending the rest of his days in Beth's apartment, or on this very porch beside her. Sharing any amount of time with her was purpose enough for him, when all was said and done. But if there was something more, somewhere better, safer, a way that they could be together and happy for even _longer_? Jesus Christ, that wasn't even a question worth _asking_. She already knew the answer just as well as he did. There was no need to even _say_ it.

It was a resounding yes, through and through, no matter what lifetime or planet or galaxy or fucking _universe_.

And then his hand was fiddling with the hairs on his chin while the questions poured from his mouth in a raspy voice, his throat still dry. "What about Earth? What happens ta everybody? What is it ya came here for besides _me_?"

He had to stop himself before the barrage of queries mounted any higher, and he restrained from overwhelming her with his sudden need for more extensive answers, pausing and anticipating her response.

Beth's eyes widened momentarily, comprehending his inquiries, licking her lips and glancing away briefly while she thought about how to respond. Then she gazed back at him with matched intensity, speaking quietly but clearly and without hesitance, "Earth doesn't have much time left. And as much as I wish I could… I can't _save_ any of the humans. I can't do _anything_ to stop what's coming."

She paused and chewed her lower lip, eyes flicking away briefly. She was fighting tears again – tears of grief – and it made his stomach ache, but he was at a loss for words.

Then she cleared her throat and finished softly, "But I came here for something – somethin' _besides_ you. I can't go home without it – it's important to my planet, to my people and my family. And me. _Very_ important."

There was a beat. A sharp breath. And then Daryl asked, without hesitation, "You need help findin' it?"

Beth smirked and squeezed his hand, gazing at him wistfully for what felt like a particularly long moment. Then the smirk faded and she pressed her lips tightly together. A trace of fear appeared in her eyes as she blinked.

She nodded.

 _Up all night long  
And there's something very wrong  
And I know it must be late  
Been gone since yesterday  
I'm not like you guys  
Twelve majestic lies_

He took in a shaky breath and ran his thumb over her knuckles, briefly licking his lips before voicing the next question that popped into his head. "So how long we got? Here on Earth, 'fore we gotta get that done an' head home?"

Her lips gradually formed a weak smile and he could see the tension in her shoulders melting away. A wave of familiarity and affection passed between them, making Daryl's heart skip. The words had emerged from him so naturally, like he was talking about dinner plans or running errands. Like this 'home' he couldn't remember visiting was a place he already _knew_ he belonged. Beth interlaced her fingers with his and pressed their palms together, blue eyes sparkling with renewed ambition.

And when she spoke, her voice was soft and full of possibilities. Full of the hope that had encompassed him since the first moment she appeared.

"The time we got left on this planet is jus' the beginning… We've got _forever_ ta look forward to, my love."

 **to be continued…**

* * *

 **A/N:** As always, a photo is included with this chapter on AO3 and tumblr and the Pinterest _Crossing Galaxies_ board. Lyrics are from "Aliens Exist" by Blink-182.  
Huge shoutout to **courtneyshortney82** for the historical advice. We may very well be exploring more of Beth and Daryl's past lives in future chapters! :)

Sorry, I lied about updating _Most Wanted_ before updating here. This chapter poured out of me before MW even had a chance, but I promise I'm still working on chapter 61!

What did y'all think of Beth's origins? About her and Daryl's deep connection? Did you like the bit about the fire that took his mother's life? Yep, this story is gonna be very fluffy and cheesy and happily ever after - I'm letting my hopeless romantic run wild! Please let me know what you think, ESPECIALLY if I was able to make you teary-eyed at all! ;)


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